


Draught

by wankadi



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Abby's the Chancellor and everyone hates her, Alternative Beginning, Angst, Canon Universe, Did I say angst?, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Minor Character Death, Other, Slow Burn, Soulmates, The 100 (TV) Season 1, and Clarke as well, bradbury blake - Freeform, draught
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wankadi/pseuds/wankadi
Summary: What if the story of Bellamy, Clarke and the whole hundred began in a completely different place?It was supposed to be a forest. But the place they land in looks nothing like it. Not even close. Not a blade of grass in sight. They landed nowhere. And in this whole chaos, there's Him and Her - two born leaders with broken souls, needing to be healed.Just like the draught needing the rain.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 30
Kudos: 54





	1. 3, 2, 1...

The pod has been dropped.

Everyone got hit with an unimaginably massive force at the same time. The speed was felt in every inch of their bodies. Both the force and the noise of the ship engines were making the thoughts go away, muscles get hurt and heads be caught in dizziness and chaos.There was no up. There was no down.There was only the fact that the hundred of delinquents were heading to the Ground.

They were the first to get back there and to check, whether 300 years after the atomic war, having catastrophic effects - such as wiping out of the whole life existing or radiating the entire planet - was it possible to live on it again.There was a huge risk that right after the door open, the radiation would kill them in a matter of seconds. If not the landing itself.

No one really knew in what condition the Earth was at the moment. Nevertheless, the Ark decided to send them there. Send the teenagers down there to die.

Clarke felt as her seat belts were biting unbearably into her skin, her scream has mingled with others and the temperature around seemed to rise uncontrollably. The death ran down from her scruff to back, pulling her head all around and paralyzing her whole body. She had no idea what it was that she wanted more: land and die, or keep falling while dying of fear.

The outcome was pretty much the same.

Out of the blue, she realized someone was holding her left hand tight. Wells.

He and Clarke have known each other for a long time. Black-skinned teen was a good friend of hers, but also Vice-Chancellor Jaha's son, who has supported her in being a daughter of ms. Chancellor Griffin.Both of them due to their parents' such high professions haven't had many friends, and knew nothing about typical Ark-childhood.

They couldn't spend time on markets, go look at the Earth's last relics or take parts in basic school before-job-practices. They couldn't have fun. They couldn't l i v e. From the very beginning they were standing right beside their parents on every event, every debate, where they were showing innocence and unreal perfection. The exemplar the others should follow. Existing ideal ruling the Ark.

But Clarke was the one to be seen on every screen. Wells appeared there as well, but certainly not as much. They understood each other despite that. They felt each other's pain and could make it smaller.

When the others were taking part in their before-job-practices, they could only choose one job, but more important than the others'. Despite that, Wells chose to be pedagogue. He wanted to help those affected by the Ark's absolute power. Floating the closest, that his father had the main role in.

Clarke, on the other hand, chose to be a medical. With similar reasons to Wells's. But not for the exact same reasons.

Either way, their plans and hopes have flown away right after they got arrested, and then came the fact of coming back to the ground. T h e i r coming back.

Clarke gave an embrace back, holding his hand tight, as if it was the last thing to save them. She felt that the end was near.

"May we meet again," his voice barely reached her.

"May we meet again," Clarke responded, shutting down the fear in her voice.

"The ceiling is falling!"

"The iron melts!"

The screams all around mixed with the dark smoke getting inside.

"Fire! We're gonna bu-"

Crash.

Pain.

Darkness.

♦️♦️♦️

White noise was the only thing that Clarke could consciously notice, as she opened her eyes slowly and the view in front of her was once fading and then going back to focus. She saw both a blinding light and overwhelming darkness. And the fire.

Seconds later, the pain kicked it. Unable to be localized and possessing every inch of her body. She was laying on the ground with her back down and face up. She felt dizzy, losing sense of space, yet she wanted to stand up as the drowning one wants a bit of air. She wanted to stand up and help the other Delinquents.

First real noises she has heard were just like from the underwater. Screams, groans and the buzz. They were getting louder and louder, until it broke her to the point of rational thinking. As much as the situation has let her.

She looked at herself and noticed her pants being cut on her tight. There was the blood slowly coming out of it. The view scared her a little, but it wasn't a dangerous wound which needed to be taken care of immediately. Nonetheless, she hoped to get the chance to heal it at some point.

She noticed quickly that it was hard to breathe, coughing from the smoke surrounding her.

Fighting the numbness of her body, she stood up, feeling unimaginable pain in her left shoulder and right leg at the same time. In her ankle, to be specific. The seat belts must have ripped off from landing, causing her to fall and twist it, injuring her shoulder as well. The dizziness wasn't going away, but it didn't matter. She was lucky to be alive.

Putting the weight of her body on her healthy leg, she looked around. Some of the Delinquents were still in their seats, unconscious or barely conscious. The second group was heavily looking around, holding their heads and quietly groaning from pain.

The others weren't this lucky and ended up like Clarke, landing on the floor in unnatural positions. Probably with broken bones, concussions and, even worse, permament injuries of important body parts, such as, for example, spinal cord.

She was also afraid that for even others it was too late.

She saw that she wasn't the only one trying to make any sense of it. A small group was kneeling in front of the fallen. Some of them sobbed, drowned in pain. They were injured themselves. They couldn't fight the smoke around them. They needed help. Right on the spot.

Clarke was searching for her seat to find Wells's as well. She hoped he would still be in there, unharmed, but he wasn't. She needed his help more than ever, having to calm both herself and others down as she suddenly felt responsible for all of them.

"Hey, you!" she yelled at the group of teens not far away from her, standing near the exit. Apparently, safe and sound. "How many of you can give first aid? Or put the fire out?"

The group looked at her in surprise, someone laughed, and some boy with half-long, straight, light-brown hair spoke on behalf of them. He was beeming with something that immediately alarmed Clarke in the depth of her subconscious.

"Surely you know, lady Griffin," he looked at her with mockery, as the group behind him responded with laughter. It was four, maybe five of them there.

She had no idea who they were. She didn't care whether they were good, or bad, but she needed some hands to help. Every passing second seemed to almost hurt her, envenoming the panic already being high up there.

And so she wasn't about to waste any more of them.

"Listen to me," she approached him with confidence, limping and covering up the pain with every step she took. "Is that so funny when people are dying, while you do nothing, even though there's nothing holding you back?" there was fire in her eyes, as she was looking at each and every one of them. "Put your pride aside and do something useful."

And after that, she turned around, about to leave, but the boy suddenly caught her shoulder. Luckily, the healthy one.

"Your Mommy-Chancellor floated our parents. You have no right to tell us what to do."

She left in unanswered, ripping away her arm from his hard grip.

"Let her go, Murphy. You know she's right," Wells approached them, holding his hand on his stomach. "Better take care of that fire before it burns everything we have in here."

Clarke was struck with relief so huge that it was so easy to breathe, all of the sudden. She went to him as fast as she could. Her eyes were filled with tears, as he put his free hand on her shoulder. But this time, it was the injured one. She winced a little.

"Sorry," he said, his voice firm and apologetic, but also happy, knowing she was alive. "Me and a couple of guys are taking care of those unconscious upstairs. The injured ones here are on you. We took them here, to the corner," his finger pointed at the place behind him, filled with people with different kinds of wounds and bruises. Mostly on their stomaches and heads.

Clarke felt the fear crowling on her back, but she knew they needed to act as soon as possible.

Wells's laughter calmed her down. But when she looked up at his stomach, covered by his hand, it all came back. "What happened?"

"Ah, this?" he repplied with the question, looking in the same direction as she did. He put his hand up, showing Clarke his stomach safe and sound. "I felt sick, but not only me. The speed effects and such. It should pass any minute now." he smiled at her once again, with warmth, despite the current situation."Now if you excuse me, I told the others I'll help upstairs."

Clarke, feeling more sane than before, nodded her head as Wells dissapeared behind the ladder, going through the hole in the ceiling. She knew that people closest to her - aka Wells - were safe, so she finally could get to work, having her head clear at the moment. It was her strenght, she relied on it ever since she remembered. That's why she went straight to the first injured girl, being in the corner that Wells showed her before.

The girl must have been at least sixteen. Her hair was long, straight and brown. But the cut on her forehead caught Clarke's attention firts. It was deeper than the one she had on her tight herself. She needed something to stop the bleeding, to disinfect the wound and to stitch it up. She didn't cross out the possibility of concussion.

And even though the girl had her eyelids down, Clarke noticed she haven't been sleeping, but was on the edge of consciousness.

"Hey, can you hear me?" she asked, putting her hand on the girl's cheek, as she barely found Clarke's face with eyes full of fatigue and confusion. Clarke didn't give up. "I'll help you. I promise."

She needed some flashlight, a lamp, anything. Looking at the wounded, the blood disfiguring their bodies, she realised that without medicine, medical equipment or even someone's help, she wouldn't be able to save everyone.

"Clarke?" Thin, brown-haired boy with the googles on his head appeared out of nowhere, placing himself next to her. "Can I help, somehow?"

She only nodded, grateful for anyone miraculously appearing right where she needed it. She checked him in case he needed some help himself. But he was all fine, she figured with relief. "Get me some kind of light, a flashlight, if there is any. And volunteers to help. Bring with them everything that can be useful. Medicine, bandages, anything! Quick!"

And he was already climbing up the ladder.

Clarke looked back at the girl, whose eyelids were falling down once again.

"Don't fall asleep! Look at me!" he patted her cheek, once again. "What's your name?"

It took her a while to respond, but finally she cleared her throat. "O... Octavia."

"What do you remember?" Clarke asked, ripping off a piece of Octavia's shirt to use it for stopping the blood.

"I was going to the ground... With a brother. His n... His name is Bellamy. Will you find him? Please..." she started to move too quickly, so Clarke put a hand on Octavia's arm. Hardly enough to stop her.

_With a brother?_

It have been ages since she'd heard of case like that. Ark's law forbade having more than one child as a way to save food and oxygen, so Clarke suspected what happened to their parents for breaking it.

And who had put their hand to it.

"Easy. I'll find him," she finally replied.

Clarke felt she owed her, knowing that nothing will bring back the ones she'd lost. And she was helpless about it. But if there was anything that she could do for her, she wouldn't hesitate to do it.

The boy with the googles arrived right on time with two girls and one other boy, equipped with first-aid kits.

"Time to save some lives," brown-haired said, passing the flashlight to Clarke.

"Thank you..." she stopped, not knowing his name.

"Jasper," he finished for her, smiling friendly at her. She smiled back.

He seemed to be pretty easy-going, but also seemed to have the will to help and do good, that she liked about him firstly.

"Help them! Quickly!" she told him and the others, as she came back to Octavia.

She checked her pupils with her light, finally confirming her assumptions. As fast as she could, she did what she could do for her, and stood up to turn and face the others. "Make sure they all rest and don't move from that spot. Here's where we will keep all of the wounded."

When they nodded in understanding, Clarke went to the ladder, but after only few steps the pain in her ankle defeated her and she had to stop. Her eyes closed, but only for a while. It wasn't the time to be weak. She looked around a bit later.

Murphy and his group, to her surprise, was putting the fire out, using...

"No!" she yelled at them, what made them and also the others turn their heads in her direction with confused looks. "We need to save up the water. We don't know if we will find any water source here."

"Never heard that the will power and faith have put out the fire," Murphy's sarcastic commentary and the laughter of people after that didn't knock out Clarke out of the rhythm. Ever since she was at her mother's speeches, she saw her taking with straight face all of the comments, calming down the uproar, or changing people's moods with her words. Clarke didn't want to be like her, but wasting their only supplies was the last thing they needed.

"There should be firefighting powder in the reserves. Or at least a fire extinguisher. The wounded have lost a lot of blood, so they need a lot of water. We a l l need water to survive," she went silent, throwing her gaze at Murphy's group and the other Delinquents as well. "That's why every single person, who has strength, should help. Save who you can save. If they've sent us down here to die, let's live. If they think we'll be defeated, let's survive."

The silence that set in was a moment to think for all of them. Everyone quietly decided for themselves. Everyone considered different options and chose the best one.

Later on, the girl that previously was putting out the fire, took the bucket with water and put it in the corner next to the wounded. By her trace, the others joined, doing whatever they could do to be helpful. Finally.

Clarke sighed with relief, seeing people washing the wounds of others and the others giving them some water to drink. She did it. They did it. They had become a team. Maybe it was only for this particular moment, but the teamwork in such severe and hopeless moment was priceless. The life was at stake. The 100 of lives.

The rest of the Delinquents was putting out the fire, using this time firefighting powder found in the reserves few minutes later. They were also trying to bring people back to full consciousness and were reassuring those, who have just gotten it back.

In the back of her head, Clarke knew that not everyone would get out of that safe and sound. Not everyone could give the first aid, not everyone would stop the bleeding on time, not everyone would disinfect the wound before the infection gets in. Not everyone had a smallest piece of knowledge.

Not everyone could be saved.

And that was all because of the government's reckless plan. Whether she liked it or not, she was bounded with it. Right next to her mother. She had no choice over what was happening. The totalitarianism was growing stronger right in front of her as she felt useless and deprived of any right to tamper with mass floatings, of which she unfortunately knew beforehand.

But when the plan of sending the Delinquents to the ground was brought into life, she had already been in her cell. The fact that her own mother sent them all there to die burned her soul too much. She had no idea about it. No one had.

The sacrifice of lives, very possibly, in vain, in order to save yourself apparently was Chancellor's life motto. Nevertheless, Clarke was different from her mother, because for her every single life mattered. And she was about to fight for them. For all of them.

"Get out of my way!" Curly-brown-haired guy came down from the ladder, coming from upstairs. He passed by irritated girl and was looking around with barely visible panic in his brown eyes. His determination struck her immediately. The fact that he was looking a little bit older than the rest of them was quite distracting as well.

Clarke was familiar with his face even though she'd never seen him before. As well as with his slightly darker complexion.

"What are you looking for?" she asked him decisively, seeing his attitude affecting the peace she had miraculously accomplished to make.

"Not your business, Ms. Chancellor" he looked at her shortly, obviously annoyed, and not even stopping he continued his search.

Suddenly she saw daylight. "You're Bellamy?"

Hearing her question, he actually stopped and gazed again at her again. This time, in his cold, brown eyes was also tangible the question mark.

Clarke explained with her voice lowered, trying to avoid any unnecessary comments of others. "Octavia is in that corner, with wounded," she showed him the mentioned place, when he seemed to feel relief and concern at once.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked right away, not knowing things burning a hole in his chest.

"Concussion and a forehead cut," Clarke looked at him tired, feeling like it was just a begining of quesions people would drown her with soon enough. "I took care of her. The wound is disinfected and stitched up. The others have already gave her something to drink, but now she needs to rest."

Bellamy was looking at Octavia with a worry on his face, even though he covered it well under his tough features. Up until that moment, she hadn't noticed that both him and his sister had their faces embellished with almost invisible freckles.

"She was looking for you. I'll let you know when she wakes up."

For a moment longer his eyes were on Octavia and then he skeptically glanced at Clarke. He barely nodded his head in answer and walked away to the ladder.

She had no idea whether this nod was a sign of received information or some kind of acknowledgement, but she couldn't waste any more time solving those type of issues. The people were in need. Both down there and upstairs.

Clarke believed that Wells and others would save there as many people as possible. Due to her ankle and arm, climbing up the ladder was not an option. When it came to what was above her, there was nothing left for her than to hope for the best.

She was just about to check on the wounded Delinquents, when the pod suddenly filled with loud, static and metallic noise.

Bellamy stopped in the half-way upstairs, Jasper paused banaging some boy's hand, Murphy held back with throwing the powder and Wells froze with a blanek in his hands.

The pod's door had begun to open.

"What the hell is she doing?!"

Someone in the crowd yelled at maybe twelve year-old girl, who pulled the lever down to set the door in motion. She was breathing heavily, on the egde of crying. Her braids were in total disaster and her body was shaking from hidden, massive panic.

Because of the noise, the people from upstairs came down and there was a lot more of them than a while ago. Clarke should've stopped the girl from opening that door, so that she wouldn't let the toxic air come inside, but suddenly she realised that the landing had let it in a long time ago.

She was also paralyzed from fear and excitement at once.

Earth.

Before the drop, they were informed about the landing area. The government chose the woods in North America. Probably the woods. They've seen those from hundreds of years ago from the pictures, but the current ones could have been radioactive enought to kill everyone from being nearby only. Not even in touch.

But there was no way to avoid it then.

Clarke, instead of taking few steps back from fear, she moved forward to the front of the group, pulled by curiosity.

Everyone was curious.

The first thing they saw was the sky. So bright and blue and different from the space's emptiness. There were no stars on it. Just a plain space of light blue, unavoidable and perfect. The Delinquents seemed to already have it as a reminder of their home, of where they were and where they would always be.

The sky met them first.

But when the door fell to the ground and the heated air hit them with full force, Clarke felt that something wasn't right.

She made sure of that when instead of the woods, all they could see was endless, dry ground.


	2. Nothing?

After a while of admiring the enormousness of the planet from the dropship door, first daredevils jumped outside, yelling out the happiness, couldn't comprehend the view surrounding them. The rest of Delinquents went by their trace, yet more careful, with the wounded hanged on their shoulders.

Every single one of them wanted to see the Earth right from its surface.

It was like another space, with light blue sky and broken, dusted ground underneath them. With the calming, refreshing air. Maybe it was highly dry and hot, but either way, it was definitely a divine version of the one they were breathing in on the Ark.

The Delinquents saw the Blue Planet from such small distance as the first ones since ages. It conferred them a meaning.

A meaning of life.

Clarke was stuck in the same spot, but right when she woke up from the trance that was her pure disbelieving, caused by the biggest event in her life, she noticed that there was one, huge missing piece.

That's the forest?

The Ark's dropship's trajectory was calculated from drop to landing. They were supposed to land in one of North America's woods. Yet the thing that she saw in front of her had no resemblance to the trees, or the flora in general.

So where the hell were they?

She looked around and saw the chaos. The sunset, same as on the Ark, mercilessly heat up the ground, and the ground heat up the air. Despite that, everyone was running around with no cover, risking a sunstroke. The sun was hitting them directly for the very first time.

The consequences of that could be different, and if Clarke had left the Delinquents in such chaos, she wouldn't have forgiven herself.

There wasn't much time.

"Nice forest, isn't it?" Wells appeared next to her, looking at the same space she did.

"I can't believe it. How the Ark could've miscalculated things this much?" She folded her arms on her chest.

"Maybe it's not a miscalculation?" he asked, not waiting for her to answer. "Me and my group are taking care of the agoraphobic kids. There's like twelve of them and no one will go outside willingly. Such a huge space-"

"Terrifies them," she interrupted. "We can't leave them alone, so they must be with someone all the time. Some sort of curtain for the entrance may be necessary, too. Both for the sunlight and the Earth view. We can't keep opening the door and closing it."

"Can do," Wells replied. "We'll use the parachute from the dropship. Now, decreasing amount of medicine and food reserves is an actual issue. It will last for two, maybe three weeks."

Clarke sighed. "How are we supposed to get anything, if there's not even a small hint saying where the water might have been?"

Wells pointed his finger at something far away from here. "Look at the horizon."

And she did what she'd been told, squinting her eyes.

The sky was darker already, someone lit up the fire, the temperature seemed to drop already, but the only thing she saw was a piece of a horizon that Wells had pointed. It was on the right, from a place that the sun was setting, so in front of them. She saw nothing there, yet she was stubbornly analyzing the far-distant spot.

And then, she noticed.

"The forest?"

Thin, dark, barely visible line was blurred far, far away to the point that Clarke found it unreal.

"Exactly," Wells explained. "That means, that we are not in the middle of this drought, but on its border. Here its climate conditions will be more favorable than they seemed to be." He smiled slightly, then he continued. "Apparently, there has been no precipitation for a very long time, and the terrain was some sort of cornfield or a huge meadow. It's summer now, according to such temperature."

She was still impressed by Wells's knowledge about the Earth. And he knew a lot of details, as it turned out.

"And if this temperature isn't constant, but only temporary, it shouldn't drop below zero degrees Celsius at night, as it would happen... on a desert, I guess?" Wells finished with his eyebrow raised in not much of a sureness. But he was sure, Clarke had no doubt there.

"It's gonna be cold, but we're prepared. It's good. It's really good," she added, as she looked at Wells with understanding and relief, but there was something on his face that concerned her. "Wells," she spoke to him directly, as he glanced at her sadly. "How many?"

He turned his gaze away and locked it on teens exploding with joy, sighing. "Five."

Clarke felt this pain in her chest that slowly turned into anger. She knew who's fault was it. She knew exactly who was responsible for it and for Wells that had to inequitably bear someone's death on his shoulders.

She knew who was the reason for five people dying way too soon. And she was ashamed for her.

She had her name.

"We've patched up almost everyone," Wells said after few seconds, looking to his right, behind Clarke, at the corner with the wounded. She copied his movement. "They are slowly back at their feet, but this chaos," he threw his hand at the people outside, "is not helpful."

Clarke nodded, moving towards the dropped door. It was creating something similar to a ramp, on which she stepped down, but only a few steps, due to her ankle. She looked at the chaotic group in front of her and decided to take care for it again, almost vaguely.

"Listen, everyone!" she yelled at them, her voice echoing into emptiness. People the closest to her glanced at her right away. "If you don't go back inside right now, there is a huge chance that you'll get a sunstroke. And skin burns. Every single one of you."

She scrutinized the Delinquents, noticing more of them stopping the activities they've been busy with seconds before and approaching the group, to hear what Clarke had to say.

"Now, the first thing to do is-"

"Not listen to you, because no one subjects to your orders." Bellamy stepped forward out of nowhere, turning his head to throw Clarke his quick, cold gaze. But this time, there was something else in it, similar to contempt and irritation. Seconds later, he was looking again at the Delinquents in front of them. "You think Chancellor's daughter had her life as bad as we had it?"

Delinquents answered him with silence. No one argued.

"She has no idea how hunger looks like, how poverty looks like. She has no clue about the true nature of Ark. So don't let her pull the wool over your eyes. Don't let yourself be ruled by someone, who doesn't know what we've truly been through! You know why?" there he stopped to turn around to look at Clarke with determination beaming from his eyes. He seemed to always have it there. "Because we do whatever the hell we want."

Everyone immediately responded with yelling, throwing fists in the air and repeating his words as if it was some kind of mantra.

"Whatever the hell we want! Whatever the hell we want!"

Screams and chaos were only rising, and Bellamy smiled with satisfaction written on his face. Clarke knew where it all was going.

To the disaster itself.

Limping, she approached him fully irritated and filled with the same thing as Bellamy — determination. He wasn't the only one people should've been afraid of. She had her face cold and stoic as death, even though she wanted to yell right at his face.

"Great job, Insurgent." She was standing face to face with him, looking at him with dread in her gray eyes. And when he showed no sign of reaction, except for the raised brow and not understanding at all look in his eyes, she added:

"You've excavated our graves."

♦♦♦

It wasn't even an hour and dozens of people were already sitting inside of the dropship, weakened and constantly hydrated by others. Their skin was covered with not so dangerous, yet biting red. The reserves were noticably getting smaller, as Clarke was glancing at every visible basket. They had to do something to avoid dying from thirst.

Keeping every wounded Delinquent inside of not so huge machine, not to mention living in it, was also quite an issue.

Luckily, those who worked with Wells and Clarke turned out to be highly cooperative. Their first aim was to set out the tents outside, so that everyone could have their own spot to sleep in. The dropship would be considered as the shelter for the wounded and a magazine for all the reserves.

But at the moment it was also filled with the group that did whatever the hell it wanted.

Wells and others were about to leave, so Clarke stood up from the floor, limping towards them. She was about to pull out her hand to get one of the headscarfs they had themselves, but she hadn't managed to do another step, when he pulled out his hand, stopping her.

"No way, Clarke," he withstood, seeing his friend limping. "You cure yourself first, then you can join us. Besides, you'll be more useful here, with the wounded." He smiled wildly, seeing Clarke's face frowning in defeat.

"Right," she sighed. "But you have to be back in thirty minutes. You won't be useful when you all get tired and exhausted," she claimed with confidence, sitting down on a metal floor again.

He nodded, still smiling, and left with the others and disappeared on the other side of a curtain. It wasn't long until it would get completely dark out there, so their work woudn't be possible then either way.

Clarke was left with nothing else to do than to change people's bandages. She was supposed to finally check her own condition, but she'd decided to do it after taking care of the very last person in need.

No matter how many of them would be till then.

"Bell..." Octavia's quiet and hoarse voice caught Clarke's attention the second she finished cleaning the hand of some red-haired girl.

"Jasper, can you finish it for me?" she asked as he was sitting nearby. Clarke wanted to stand up, but this time, when she had put her foot on the ground, the pain was too strong. She sat down again, sighing. "Nevermind, I'll do it. Find Bellamy and tell him that Octavia woke up, please." Clarke looked at him, begging with her eyes.

"Can do, Doc," he claimed immediately and nodded. The term he had used put a smile on Clarke's tired face. Someone believed in her and it was enough to keep her motivated. She grabbed the bandage and continued the patch-up. People needed her. And if she could help someone, she did.

She remembered about Octavia.

"Don't pick up anything, or grab, not to mention going upstairs, got it?" she asked the red-haired girl that nodded in understanding right after that.

Clarke moved to Octavia, not leaving the ground while doing so, who was leaning on the dropship's wall. This time, she was gazing at the blonde way more consciously, and suddenly it seemed to be worse than any other condition.

"Clarke Griffin?" she asked with cutting cold in her voice, eyeing her ruthlessly.

"How are you feeling? The dizziness-"

"You killed my parents."

Deadly cold words covered the space around them with darkness. The sudden silence between them was just like a black, thick fog. Clarke looked at the bandage of hers she'd changed not a long time ago. "Bellamy will come to you, wai-"

"They were his parents, too!" Brown-haired girl stood up, helping herself with a wall next to her.

Clarke, whether she wanted it or not, did the same thing and leaned on the metal that helped her hold some of her body weight. She looked at drowned in anger girl and held out a hand in her direction. "Octavia, you shouldn't stan-"

"SHUT UP!" She immediately and strongly pressed Clarke against the wall, grabbing the blonde's neck with her cold hands. For a second, the world spinned around her, but quickly she recovered and grabbed Octavia's forearms in self-defense. Didn't work, obviously.

"When I found you, you were... barely conscious. You need to..." she was spitting out the words, as it was harder to breathe with every second passing, "rest."

A part of Clarke wanted Octavia to sit down, let her go and not to risk her own health after not so mild injury, but the other one... felt she deserved all of that.

"Octavia, stop!"

When dark spots danced in front of her eyes, all of a sudden the pressure on her neck disappeared. She took a deep breath with her lungs whizzing, feeling indescribable relief.

She leaned her head on a cold metal wall, calming down her speeding heart. She finally opened her eyes and looked in Octavia's direction. Bellamy was the one pulling her away from Clarke. And she should be very used to this murderous gaze of hers, but somehow, she couldn't.

Every next person deprived of a parent was showing a whole new set of emotions.

"LET ME GO! SHE DESERVES IT!" Octavia's blue eyes were possessed by anger so strong and scary, that people around her stepped aside. The determination was apparently in their genes and was coming out at the worst times possible.

After few breaths, Clarke managed to speak up.

"It's true," she agreed, still feeling the fire on her neck, "but like it or not, I'm the only medical here. And we have to cooperate."

"We can do this without you," Octavia got away from her brother's arms and went upstairs without looking back. The venom was felt in the air, making it even harder for Clarke to take breaths.

"Sit down," Jasper said quietly, approaching her and sitting her down on a first box near them.

Instead of answering, she looked Bellamy in the eyes and slightly, hesitantly nodded in gratefulness. He only stared back at her with hundreds of different emotions in his amber eyes, and after that he turned around to follow his sister.

Clarke had no idea why Bellamy helped her. Instead of that, she would rather expect another pair of hands cutting off the air from her lungs.

Seconds later she let Jasper look at her leg, examine her arm and check on the neck as well. She didn't like it, just sitting there, but it was better for her to be done with this already.

"The skin around your ankle is red and swollen," Jasper started. "I've barely pulled off it take off you shoe, so there's no way you would put it back on. At least I think you wouldn't."

"Loose bandage and makeshift crutches will do. There will be bruises and slight swelling on my neck, and I won't use my shoulder this much. Should be enough," Clarke summed up, still having a difficulty speaking. "And Jasper..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." She looked at him with warmth in her expression. "Your help in here is priceless. You do a lot for all these people, I hope you know that. You're a good person."

He didn't look up, keep on bandaging her ankle, but he spoke up anyway. "And so are you. They'll come around, eventually."

And she had no idea what to say to that, quite distracted. So the rest of the time she decided to spend on telling Jasper exactly what to do. When he went away to help the others, she was thinking, trying to come up with a plan for the Delinquents. Planning it out wasn't going to be an easy task, she knew it already.

Because Wells and his group were outside, Clarke with Jasper were taking care of all the wounded, and the others...

Well, they were up to whatever the hell they wanted.

Their attitude was harmful for everyone else. If they got their hands busy with anything beneficial, maybe they all wouldn't have to nest in two-leveled can ready to fall in pieces from the body weight upstairs.

When for the fifth time the laughter stopped her from falling asleep, she was on the edge of patience.

"Just pull it, man!"

"But what if I get hurt? You go first, maybe I'll change my mind, then."

And that woke Clarke up completely.

She stood up, using a piece of a metal tube she had found nearby, and used it as her makeshift crutch to walk outside. There, she saw a larger group around a campfire, a queue of Delinquents, waiting for their turn to...

Exactly.

Walking down the ramp, she was noticing more and more details.

Murphy and some black-skinned boy she didn't know were in the front of the group, holding a long, thin piece of iron. Some short, black-haired girl had just approached them, holding out a hand above the fire.

And when the boy brought the iron near her arm, Clarke acted subconsciously.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked with a beef in her voice, seeing another trouble ahead.

But then, her eyes caught something shiny in the tongues of fire. Something metallic.

The wristbands.

The ones that were the only source of any information for the Ark. Taking it off was a death wish. When the connection was ferociously cut off, the government was assuming right away that someone had died as a victim of a mother nature's radiation. Or any other health threat.

"We do what should have been done a long time ago." Bellamy walked by Clarke without a glance, and came closer to the group as the others gathered around, surrounding them from every side possible. "You think, that when they come down, they will forgive us everything we did? That every single crime will be forgotten?" he asked vigorously, when the Delinquents listened to him in awe. Again.

Only Clarke and Wells didn't approve what others saw at the moment as a good solution. No one but them knew the real reason why were they here. On the ground. No one had the smallest idea how serious it was. No one knew the whole picture. But despite that, the two of them were quiet. More willingly or less.

"They'll get back, they'll arrest us, and who knows, what else? It's going to be the end for us. The end of our freedom that we just got back! When they are back, who will think of some forgiveness? Their only thought will be the peace and order to regain."

Bellamy, standing among all of them, picked up from ground someone's wristband that was laying somewhere outside the fire. He held it on the height of his face, showing it to everyone with his features confident, emotional and fierce.

"They won't pardon us, trust me. And taking off this piece of metal will give you your freedom. This will make sure that the Ark is not coming down here. This will give us the Earth! For our own! With our o w n rules!"

The crowd replied with heated screams of freedom, rebelion and madness. A wave of fists thrown in the air surrounded them from everywhere. Bellamy united them, maybe unconsciously, and became the leader that was worth following.

And Clarke, whether she liked it or not, was impressed by his influence on people. When he believed in something, it was constant and untouchable. He could spread this faith around, affecting the others. It was hard to miss how the respect of others was surrounding him. Just like a space void was surrounding the Ark.

But in this moment, feeling every single emotion right under her skin, Clarke finally said what was screaming inside of her head all this time. From the second they started to take those wristbands off.

She said what had to be said. Even when she wasn't sure if it should be.

"Taking off this 'piece of metal' will kill everyone on the Ark!" her equally firm voice stopped every single movement, waking up the fear in Delinquents with that one, simple sentence.

"Clarke..." Wells whispered and put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of a warning, but she only glanced at him shortly. Then turned around, so his hand fell in the emptiness.

She couldn't keep it to herself anymore.

"You really wanna know why we were sent to the ground?" she asked, but this time, her eyes gazed at Bellamy's skeptical ones. Those words were meant especially for him. "The Ark is d y i n g."

And then, something changed.

Bellamy's face had filled with a sudden realization and concern at once, as he dropped his eyes on a campfire with shiny metal pieces in it. His jaw clenched in cogitation as he swallowed, subtly enough to make Clarke believe she had some kind of a delusion.

What was he truly thinking about? She had no idea. But there was one thing she could tell: deep down, Bellamy cared for people's lives.

But it wasn't even a second when the Rebel came back with his scepticism and with cold eyes piercing her through. She wasn't so sure after all.

And as he went back to being the Insurgent, she became the Chancellor's daughter again.

"Carbon dioxide's filters haven't been functional for months, and that means, the air on the Ark will end soon enough. Sending us down here gave them more time to think of a solution. Coming down here w a s one, but the second you took these wristbands off, the Ark thought it's not safe here, and that means - they will die up there, not knowing that there was salvation all along."

People were already exchanging thoughts and feelings with each other, way too distracted with the fresh news. When the truth came out, and the weight of keeping a secret fell from Clarke's shoulders, Wells appeared in front of her with a disappointment visibly written on his face. "You wanted a chaos? If so, congrats. You got it."

She looked at him in frustration. "There was no other way in which we could possibly convince them to stop. We can't let them destroy the last communication with the Ark that is left."

"Monty and the rest of engineers are on it," Wells tried to prove his point. "They are fixing this tech that hasn't burned during the landing."

Clarke sighed and rubbed her forehead in exhaustion. "Even if, we can't be sure they will do it. Until it's done, we are not letting anyone else take off the wristband. Ripping off a single one of them can damage them all. We're lucky that it didn't happen already." She pointed at the sky. "The Ark needs to know that the Earth is survivable. We h a v e to save them, Wells."

She had this crushing plea in her eyes. Her friend apparently wasn't glad she let the truth out without talking to him first. As Vice-Chancellor's son he knew as well why were they here. He kept it a secret, too. He still had a right to decide who should be allowed, if anyone, to know it.

But Clarke's action wasn't even a half of his decision.

"You can't save everyone, Clarke," he claimed quietly and left her, moving towards the tents.

The sound of his footsteps was the only sound she heard clearly.

He meant what he'd said, what made her think even more. She saw the way he was further away and felt deep down her mind the true meaning of his words. She wanted to save all of the Delinquents as well as to prevent the Ark's death. But at this moment, she didn't even know how could they find any food and water before they die from starvation.

She vaguely looked at the horizon and suddenly noticed something strange.

On the height of trees that were almost blended with the dark sky, she saw barely visible, blinking light. She might've took it for a star, but it wasn't dark enough and the light's pulse was too perfect. Too rhythmic. For a second it was on, and for another it was off. It was too weird and unnatural as for the lifeless Earth.

Clarke connected the dots, and couldn't believe the conclusion. Struck by her discovery, she went back to the dropship, walked by the screams of the Delinquents.

And by the silent, amber eyes of one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one! I wanted to have few in the beginning and slower add the next ones. What do we think? Thank you for the support under the first chapter, I truly didn't expect that! <3 I promise, my sentences are getting better with each chap, so dw! <3


	3. The Grave

The people.

On Earth.

For hundreds of years.

The feeling tied to that thought was for Clarke incomparable to what she'd felt while seeing the Earth from itself for the first time. Maybe it was the surreal sensation that intensified in her mind. Because it was not possible. It was pure contradiction.

Only those who managed to take a spot in one of the twelves stations were able to survive. The rest was seemingly killed by the radiation so strong, that even people from space, used to its environment, wouldn't stand a chance. They wouldn't blink and the heat wave would eat them whole.

There were other theories, obviously, speaking of the nuclear catastrophe and they weren't much better. But none of them said a word about the s u r v i v a l of the human race on a dead planet. About the possibility of a piece of civilization still existing.

Because how would anyone survive down there?

Clarke, nonetheless, believed in what she'd seen with her eyes and what she'd thought with her head. Those things were undeniably confirming that hypothesis. It was wiser to consider every option, than to deny it.

She felt paralyzed yet thirsty for any movement.

The thing she saw was screaming inside her and demanded to be let out, to be said out loud, to be told anyone. But the weight of the news was the reason why she hadn't. Not even Wells.

After last evening, full of disbelief and huge emotions, Clarke decided to take a night shift in taking care of the wounded, feeling she wouldn't close her eyes anyway.

Who would, being her shoes?

Currently, sitting on a box in "Medical corner" right next to the sleeping wounded, surrounded by the darkness of the night, she was still thinking of a plan, dear God, for the Delinquents' survival on Earth. Decided to think about the G r o u n d e r s as well and when and who she should about them, eventually.

But deep down she felt that it would be Wells.

Highly stiff, she stood up with her tube and approached the open door, lifting the curtain a little. In front of the dropship were tents, already occupied as a test by those, who placed them there. The Delinquents got them from the Ark and had fifty of them, give or take. In that case, it solved one of the issues.

Clarke lost her focus on them, suddenly struck by the night sky. The exact same sky they saw from the Ark.

She thought about her mother. The murderer whom she hated with every other problem on Earth. With every other wounded and orphaned person she met. She looked at her wristband and thought about the stupidest thing she might had ever considered. The revenge.

She let the curtain drop and leaned on a door recess, and did the same thing with her tube. Then, she surrounded the wristband with her hand across it. And was just holding it, wondering how huge impact was caused by such innocent devise. How huge impact it might had on people the closest to her.

She almost fell, jumping a little, startled as she heard a noise nearby.

In the darnkess of the dropship, she saw an outline of someone's figure, but even if she saw nothing at all, she would know who had just got down from a ladder.

"Ms. Chancellor on her feet?" Bellamy's cold question cut through the silence around them, but not loudly enough to wake anyone up.

"She took a night shift with the wounded," she grabbed her tube and not even looking at him, she went towards the box. "And the Rebel goes for some escapades at night?"

And, unexpectedly, he answered with amused snort. "If he wants to, no one can talk him out of it."

This time, she looked at him, stuck to the ground.

Bellamy was leaning on a recess, same as she did seconds ago, but on the other side of a door. He had his body turned towards her, but his eyes were locked on the tents outside, so she only saw his profile. Clarke felt that she wasn't the only one who noticed the sky so familiar and known.

Recalling the place they came from.

"I don't understand one thing," she said after a beat.

"You don't say," he replied, not even glancing at her.

She sighed, not bothered by the sarcasm in his voice. "Why do you want so much to cut us from the Ark? Why do you want us to be dead in their eyes?"

After that, he gazed at her annoyed, and Clarke thought he was about to leave without a word, but she was caught by surprise again when he gave her a simple answer. Not filled with irritation as always.

"I did something you just don't get locked up for," and after that he simply went back to looking outside.

Even though he woke some curiosity inside of her, she didn't push. Instead, she slowly walked outside, stopping in the middle of a ramp and looking far away at the horizon. The blinking was still there. The night came with lower temperature, but the jacket Clarke had on was enough to ignore that.

Because the goose-flesh she had on her entire body wasn't caused by the cold, but that far, strange light.

"I don't get one thing, either," Bellamy appeared noiselessly next to her, folding his arms with his eyes on a camp.

Clarke glanced at him, but he didn't turned his head. His facial expression was stiff and cold, as always. The moonlight was lining his features and was giving his eyes this mysterious, grave glare. "You were telling the truth? About the oxygen on the Ark?" Then, he moved his unfriendly gaze to her, but Clarke saw in his eyes the same emotions she'd seen that evening.

She nodded, and Bellamy dropped his eyes down, clearly not satisfied with that answer. There was some contradiction in him. Different goals, wills, views. Once he looked as if emotions were foreign concept to him, and the other time, like in that certain moment, he looked as if he had way too many of them inside his head.

After a while, she made up her mind about something she might regret one day.

"You're good leader, Bellamy," she started, catching his slightly confused gaze. "You can lead all those people by what you believe in and you give them that faith. You inspire them." She stopped, to put her eyes on the tents. "You could keep them alive."

There was this silence hanging above them. Clarke was glad they found this piece of understanding, while putting aside their mutual lack of sympathy. Even for one night. She noticed they had one thing in common: they wanted what's best for other people and felt responsible of the Delinquents. More publicly or less.

Bellamy sighed helplessly, looking at the same thing she did. "There won't be a way to stay alive, if there's no food or water," he claimed, bit mockingly. "It won't be a month and this place is gonna be empty, dry and dead as it was before our landing."

And then, Clarke decided to finally execute her plan.

"This place was never really dead."

Bellamy turned his gaze at her in complete confusion. After a beat of hesitation, Clarke pointed at the horizon. There was darkness all around and even she had a difficulty finding the spot. But luckily, there was the blinking. "Look at the edge."

He did what he was told. "It's too dark, besides.." he cut, suddenly struck by the view, and asked quite confused "Wait, what's that?"

"The forest. That's where we were supposed to land," she replied quietly, moving her eyes from the pointed place to it's left end, to the blinking.

"Is it possible to miscalculate the trajectory that much?"

She smiled slightly, hearing his question. She asked Wells the same thing when he showed her the woods. But currently, Bellamy had the biggest news ahead. "Now, look at its left end."

After few seconds he sighed, annoyed, "I see nothing."

And so Clarke came a step closer to him and held out her hand in front of his eyes, to show him the exact place. "There. You see?"

The reason why she was sharing this information with Bellamy was because it was intuitive. She felt that he was in fact good and reasonable. There was a chance that he would be motivated by that to lead the 100 as it should be leaded. To become their true leader.

Or maybe she was wrong and tomorrow he was about to tell everyone about her discovery and do something unpredictable. But she had hope.

"It's not a star," he stated, immediately understanding, "so what does it mean?"

"It means, we're not alone."

They exchanged looks, and both his and hers was saying:

"We're screwed."

♦️♦️♦️

The next few days passed quite calmly.

Bellamy didn't tell anyone about what Clarke had showed him the other night, neither he was taking up a fight with her.

And even if he wanted to, there was no time, because both his and her followers were taking care of decomposing the tents and luckily gave up with taking off their wristbands. Clarke with each day was more impressed by Bellamy's leading skills. Whether he wanted it or not, he was born for this.

Clarke, however, was too exhausted to do it. Mostly because of the shifts she was taking every night, giving herself only few hours of sleep afterwards. There was just two wounded left, but there were also agoraphobics and their fear that was almost impossible to overcome.

So, to sum up and not to go into details, she could say that there was some sort of truce between them. They kind of buried the hatchet.

Except for one girl, who had a nightmare that night and ripped her stitches off her leg while sleepwalking, Clarke spent the whole night on the box. The felt relief when the first people woke up with the very first sunlight that slipped inside the dropship.

Her eyelids were falling themselves. She felt a pain of a constant, uncomfortable position. The skin of her legs, hands and face was burning from the first sunburn they were taught about on the Ark. Her whole body was begging for some rest, but unfortunately, something had to make that impossible, too.

It was a child's cry.

She opened her eyes, noticing a girl who fought with Wells in the middle of a dropship. The same girl who opened the door. Tears were rolling down her red cheeks. She tried to get out of Wells's arms. The sadness was crushing her face.

Clarke could barely look at her.

She fastened her muscles and stood up from her box. She still had to use the tube as a crutch, but she started to put her foot on the ground, getting used to leaving her reassurance one day. But that was not this day.

When she stood up, her view shifted dangerously. She caught her balance at the very last moment. She was waking up more with ech second, mostly because of the girl's scream.

This girl, on the other hand, fell down on her knees, loosing all her will to fight back. Clarke started to approach her quicker, when Wells kneeld in front of a twelve-year-old. "Charlotte..."

And then she collapsed in his embrace, letting out a primal scream that could rip apart everyone's heart. "I saw them, when they got floated, I-"

"It's okay. I got you." When Wells was swinging them back and forth, to calm her down, Clarke felt a sudden darkness spreading through her chest. She wanted to make one step more, but when she saw the way her friend had barely shaked his head at her, she understood.

Clarke's sight would only hurt her more. And not only her.

Pushed and swallowed by the darnkess, she stepped back and left the dropship, facing the burning sunlight. The blue sky turned gray, and the heat of the air seemed to avoid her sudden coldness.

She walked, barely hearing the sound of a wind. She was passing tent after tent, and finally reached the point where the only things she saw was dry, dead ground and a forest, way too far away from her. Despite that, she kept on walking.

It was harder and harder to lean on the tube and put up her feat to do another step.

"I can't save everyone." Wells's words stroke her and punched her in the face the moment she'd reached nothingness. Painfully and clearly. And the regret she was bearing became bigger than her. Suddenly, she was filled with anger.

She was so angry at her mother.

She didn't control the grip of her hands, and the pain of nails biting her skin seemed not to reach her at all. But somehow, she felt the tears on her cheeks very, very deeply.

She was so, so angry at her mother.

"Clarke?" Jasper's voice seemed to come from far distance.

She grabbed her wristband tightly, breathing heavily. She was so tired with those last days, but in that moment, she wanted nothing more, than her mother to feel what Clarke felt. To feel what she felt every time someone looked at her in screaming hate.

Every time Clarke's sight was reopening old wounds.

She wanted her to feel what every orphaned Delinquent felt.

"I hate you," she whispered with dead, cold voice, referring to someone drifting in space, to someone who couldn't hear it. She locked her gaze on teh wristband.

From the blurred vision, it was hard for her to notice her own hands shaking. She squeezed her wristband tightly. She could remove it in a way that wouldn't destroy the whole connection. All she cared about was revenge.

"You know that's not what you want!" He didn't get it.

"You're wrong, Jasper," she denied with no emotion, still looking at the silver. "This, is what I've always wanted." And she squeezed her bracelet from both sides, one finger up, one finger down, and finally took it off.

It took seconds for lightened antennas to cover with dead darkness.

Up on the Ark, Clarke Griffin died.

After all, she noticed how far from the dropship they were. Despite the cold she was beaming with, Jasper approached her and gave his hand. Once again, she put her pride aside and let him take her arm on his neck.

They were about to leave, when Clarke's voice stopped him instantly. "Wait," she demanded, staring intensively at the horizon.

Above the woods, she saw something that made her anxious. Again. For the first time she saw the clouds from below, and not from above as they used to see them. They were darker than the ones from the photos. They were massive, pilling up from the woods as the monsters, ready to attack.

But more terrifying seemed to be the fog, that was unnaturally yellow. She didn't recall it from any book about the Earth. She would say it was looking like that because of the radiation, but it was coming from the place where she usually saw the blinking. The fog was rapidly spreading above the other parts of the forest.

And along with the clouds, it seemed to move straight at them.

"You see that?"

He did.

"We should run, now!" He put his hand on her waist, but she denied immediately.

"We won't be on time. You get to the others, tell them to hide, then someone comes back for me, got it? We save time, we help them." She felt as her heart wants to get out of her chest. "Go, now!"

And he only hesitated for a second before rushing like hell towards the camp.

Clarke looked back at the fog that was way closer than she expected. As fast as she could, she followed Jasper, but her exhaustion, both physical and emotional, was only getting stronger.

She saw masses of people running through the dropship door, taking whatever they could with them, yelling at each other and pointing at the approaching fog.

Overwhelming panic and fear soaked through their bones.

Clarke was only striving to go forward, but the distance was dragging on mercilessly. For a second, she just wanted to stop where she was, to avoid seeing their hateful faces and to end up a coward, but that was not who she was.

And so she kept on going, losing her senses. Tube after the leg, leg after the tube. Despite the feeling that the fog was too close and her chanced were smaller and smaller.

Suddenly, she saw a figure rushing towards her. After a longer beat, she recognized her best friend.

Few seconds later, Wells was standing in front of her. He took her on his shaking arms and rushed back to the camp. She saw for a moment the fear in his eyes. Time was slipping out of their hands, they almost felt it on their back, biting their skin.

The dropship door were closer, but the fog was reaching them way faster than Wells could possibly run.

"Close the door!" Wells screamed at the people who were the closest to the entry

At the same time, both him and Clarke started to suffocate. She felt the burning in her lungs and skin, multiple tongues of pure fire.

When the doors were lifted on the knees height, Wells jumped up in the air. He fell on it, sliding down into the dropship. Seconds later the door shut, cutting off a loud noise. They both landed painfully on the metal floor.

They did it. Wells saved her life.

"Get them to the Medical Corner! Anyone experienced, go help them! Now!"

Chaos inside of a dropship was just indescribable. People were running around, climbing up and down the ladder. Those the closest to the door, started to cough as well. Screams, sobs were heard all around. Same as the orders yelled to everyone. She couldn't recognize who was giving them.

Clarke still felt the fire in her chest. They didn't escape the fog, but they surely did escaped death. At least this time. When Jasper appeared next to her, she spoke up, her voice low and hoarse badly enough that it shocked even her. "He... lp Wells. Give it to..." she got interrupted by sudden severe coughs, "Monty."

She held her hand out with just removed wristband, which was most likely the only one that was untouched and helpful for regaining contact with the Ark. She was keeping it tight in her grip this whole time.

"Can do, Doc," short, anxious smile lightened up his face as he took the wristband from her and started giving his own group some tasks.

Clarke found his friend laying unconscious right beside her, and she wanted to fight all the pain, so she could reach him and check if he was even breathing. Judging by the people giving him a first aid, she took it as a chance for keeping him around.

Someone suddenly lifted her from the floor and put her down on something soft. She didn't know who was helping her. The only thing she felt was numbness and someone's hand cleaning her wrist wounds after taken off bracelet. She felt as if she left all of her emotions outside to be eaten by the fog.

Clarke glanced at the chaos that someone, apparently, already took care of. Finally she matched the voice to its owner. Bellamy was giving people orders few feet away from her. They listened to him. He kept them disciplined, when they all were filled with fear and panic.

At some point he looked at her with determined, tough eyes. Clarke only slightly shaked her head. She wanted to tell him so much by that simple gesture. For example, that the fog couldn't be a product of the radiated mother nature, or that it all was going in the worst direction possible.

He swallowed, barely visible anxiety in his eyes, hidden under rough features, and went back to leading the group. Even Bellamy felt the atmosphere of threat suffocating them all.

And Clarke really, really wanted to close her eyes, which she did, immediately swallowed by the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love! More bellarke, as promised. See you next week!


	4. You can't save everyone

Clarke woke up at night.

Her eyes were covered by the black. A while must have passed before she saw at least an outline of a ceiling. The dropship was dead quiet, so unlike the chaos that was the last thing she remembered before the darkness took her away. The doors were still shut, and there was much more Delinquents, probably because they couldn't sleep outside.

She noticed that she's laying in the Medical Corner, next to Wells. Seeing his closed, perfectly motionless eyelids, she anxiously took her hand out and put two of her fingers on his neck. Checking if there was any pulse.

He was alive.

She sighed with relief, which she regretted right away when she started to convulsively cough, feeling as if someone had recently jumped all over her lungs and had them in their grip.

Suddenly, she saw a hand keeping a little pot filled with water. "Here, you seem to need it." Bellamy was kneeling right next to her with a mug handed to her.

The same moment Clarke slowly sat down, feeling dizzy while doing so. Then, when she saw more details in the darkness, equally slow she took the water from his hand, brushing it for second.

Weird.

"Thanks," she said hoarsely, not even recognizing her own voice. The fog effect.

She hadn't noticed when she emptied the whole pot. The water seemed to be the greatest drink she had even had a chance to try in eighteen years of her life. At this moment she noticed how badly she needed it.

"You feel better?" he asked, taking a sit on a box nearby, the one she used to occupy herself.

She only nodded. In fact, yesterday's body pain turned into numbness, and the fire in her lungs into nothing more, than constant suffocating. Her head went back to its place.

"Good," he answered, laying on the wall behind him.

The cold inside of Clarke warmed a bit. "Why are you awake?" she asked, cutting the silence with her screechy voice. She needed to know.

She wondered why, once again, was he on his feet in the middle of a night. Why was he helping her? Why was he helping anyone out of his rebellious will? Just like that. From day to day. It was equally strange as the yellow fog.

Bellamy, previously looking at something in front of him, locked his tired, yet slightly playful eyes on Clarke. He put the mockery aside, but the distance and skepticism were still there in his amber look.

"Ms, Chancellor took a nap, so someone had to take her spot for a while."

She managed to smile at that.

A half-smile for a half-joke.

Then, she dropper her eyes, not embarrassed, but surrounded by the memories of the other day. She noticed her wristband-less hand, covered with some kind of material. This time, she felt nothing. Echo of the void filled her soul.

"Someone had really pissed you off up there, hadn't they?"

Clarke rose her head, seeing Bellamy with his eyes locked in the same place she did seconds ago. Quickly he changed it, looking her in the eyes. He somehow understood her reasons. He didn't judge her. He knew who was that about.

It was nice, yet striking feeling.

A beat after that, he stared at the wall in front of him again. "Get some sleep," he suggested, noticing that she's not at her best yet.

And so she listened to him and lied back down. Falling asleep, she tried to understand how in such short time they'd managed to bond on this mental, spiritual level. But before she could, the sleep had soaked her in.

♦️♦️♦️

She felt useless.

For few hours she was in the same spot she woke up in, and was looking at the others who were moving all around the dropship. Working, taking care of the wounded, doing anything more beneficial than her.

And she was just sitting there.

She asked Jasper to ask her about any medical symptom or issue he didn't know. Clarke saw the way he knew more and more and was taking care for her of more and more wounded.

The chemist was becoming the medical.

When she glanced at still sleeping Wells, Jasper came to her once again, and the feeling of being useless dropped for a second.

"Everyone affected by the fog are healing already," he smiled, giving Clarke a pot with water.

She nodded in gratefulness, and drank a half of the mug, the rest she put down, close to her. "I have a question," she cut the silence, suddenly recalling Jasper's first reaction. "You know what that fog really was?"

He fixed his goggles on his head, appearing to be way more stressed. Ever since she met him, he didn't hide the way he felt, and usually, he felt... like that.

"I need any sample to that, right equipment and conditions, but... Seeing the color or the reaction product... I would bet on some acid in a gaseous state. Something like that, I think."

When he was speaking, Clarke started to take off her so-called bandage on her wrist. When she was done, she showed Jasper her wounds. "If you had known what was my wrist cleaned with, would you have known what kind of acid was in the fog?"

Particular wounds after the needles created a dotted circle around her hand. The wounds themselves, as she noticed this moment, didn't heal properly. The stiff blood was strangely dark. Almost black, with spreading yellow all around them.

"Oh shit," that's all he said, staring at her hand.

"The rests of the fog reacted to whatever it was cleaned with," Clarke understood less and less. "Are you sure it's nothing else than the acid?"

When she glanced at Jasper, she saw the colors disappearing from his face, and his eyes shifting with his rapid thoughts. But when he finally answered, he didn't make things any better. "I doubt that it was the fog."

Clarke looked at the material that she took seconds ago, feeling even more lost. She grabbed it and slightly waved it in front of her face. The strong smell attacked her nostrils, causing another series of convulsive coughing.

It surely didn't smell like an alcohol.

"It's on the bandage."

They exchanged the looks, terrified of their discovery.

"Do you remember, who helped you?" Jasper asked and took the material from her hand.

She shaked her head. "I barely recall anything. I thought it was one of yours."

He put the material only a bit closer to his face, but did it the way the chemists are probably doing it. To sum up, not like Clarke. "It could've been," he claimed. "Some sort of a mixture, I can't really tell... Maybe... What if-"

"Hey, Jasper. Calm down." She grabbed his shoulder, seeing the panic building up in his eyes. "If anything happens, I'll let you know. We will figure this out."

He nodded rapidly and was about to stand up, when Wells suddenly started to shake with his whole body. Delinquents around turned his eyes on him, and they was surely dozens of them.

Clarke felt this cold sensation on the bottom of her stomach and found herself next to Wells in a flash, ignoring the pain. He was still unconscious, shaking out of control. It wasn't good. She knew it too well.

"He's seizing..." she whispered to herself, then turned to Jasper. "Get them away, there's too many of them here."

"Step aside, people!" by his command, people started to move away, still hesitantly looking at Wells.

Clarke pressed her hand to his forehead, more and more overwhelmed by emotions. She felt his hot skin under her hand, assuming the worst. And most likely to be as well.

The wasn't much time.

Bellamy accompanied by Octavia appeared in her eyeshot, moving through the crowd. "What's happening?" he asked Jasper, but was looking at Wells.

"Poisoning..." Clarke took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart down. "What did her eat, drink before the fog came?" she threw the question to no one in particular.

She had to hold Wells's shoulders to not let him harm himself. Jasper was looking around, until he approached another corner and took some iron bowl in his hands. Then he came back to Clarke.

"He was only drinking-" he cut, noticing something inside of a bowl.

"Jasper! We don't have time!"

He swiped the bottom with his finger, picking up the white dust. He smelled it as well, to confirm his theory.

Very bad theory.

"Medicine. A mixture of pills," he said, his voice startled. "He must have drunk it right before the fog. And it attacked his body along with the medicine." He looked at her anxiously, yet sadly and suddenly deprived of hope. Most of them suspected what was coming next.

Clarke, on the other hand, saw everything and nothing. "No..."

She saw every single conference by Wells's side, the way he was pointing at some lawyers, comparing them to the earth-movies characters. They couldn't stop smiling at one another.

"No, no, no..."

She saw every single astronomy lesson she had given him, and his laughter the moment he didn't understand certain word. And when Clarke laughed with him.

"No!"

She saw his every single smile, from the very first one, when he was a kid, to the last, on the ground. Cheering up, reassuring and familiar.

"NO!"

She saw the moment he saved her from Murphy and the moment he ran against the fog to save her life.

"Wells!"

She saw her hands on his chest already doing CRP.

"Wells?"

You can't save everyone.

"Wells..."

But she saw nothing, when his body stopped seizing, and she desperately pushed her head to his chest, holding his shirt tight. She whispered, "May we meet again," even though she knew better.

She lost her heart, having nothing left but her head covered with the acid fog.

♦️♦️♦️

They opened a door the next day.

Thanks to one of the saved windows they noticed, that there was no fog to be seen. Their tents and everything left on the outside was untouched. It surprised them all, since they had all assumed that the acid for will destroy everything on its path.

They were checking their corners carefully, taking their time. Nothing. If it wasn't for the catastrophic effects on the teenagers, they would say the fog had never happened. The sun was still shining everywhere, and there was no sign of the clouds anywhere on current perfect, Earth's blue sky.

Few people came to their own conclusions. The others were happy to be back in their tents. And the rest - they felt nothing at all.

Ever since they walked outside, they managed to bury two other people, defeated by the fog.

By the fog and planned murder.

Clarke was standing in front of a Wells's grave, which at the moment was one out of seven. On the Ark, the people who passed away were floated into the endless space. Here, on Earth, from what they've learned, it looked just like that.

Seven graves digged out and the Delinquents right there, under the ground, killed by the Ark. Maybe it did happen on Earth, but no one forgot why were they down there.

Why there were seven, rectangular piles of ground behind the dropship.

Why it all came to killing one another.

From the corner of her eye, Clarke saw someone approaching her. Yet still her gaze was locked on a grave of her friend. Yet still she had her arms folded. Yet still she was beaming with the cold worse than the space void.

"Jasper and his people are looking for the perpetrator," Bellamy mirrored her pose, while finally standing next to her. Immortal indifference marked on his face. When Clarke stayed quiet, he added slightly, "I'm sorry."

Seeing her friend's living memory, she unwittingly closed her eyes and when she opened them again. "We need rules," she answered stiffly and with that, went towards the tents with her eternal tube by her side.

It had been about a week, and seven people were already dead. Maybe there were some bits of discipline, brought into life by Clarke, Bellamy and also Wells. But Delinquents needed to know the boundaries instead of turning this camp into a bigger chaos than it was. 

That would only get them closer to death.

"And who makes those rules?" Bellamy was walking right beside her.

"For now, we will," she repied, walking by filled again with people tents and the space around them. "We can't let that happen even again."

He didn't answer until they were inside of a dropship. Clarke, being inside, tried not to look at the Medical Corner.

"Even if we do, not everyone will obey them."

"They won't have a choice." She looked him dead in the eyes, when he simply rubbed his face, jaded.

"Then what's the plan, Ms. Chancellor. I'm listening," he said with a mockery, what only made her recall the night from a week ago. 

Clarke was slowly getting used to his harmless jibes. And the nickname he had for her. It was worse and more annoying in the beginning, but at the moment she saw that it was a part of his personality. He stepped back himself, apparently dealing with the situation.

She found the iron bowl, already creating the rules in her head. "We start rationing reserves, we start the curfew... anything."

"What about the delinquency?" Bellamy rose his brow skeptically. "There is no space or the skybox. We're not on the Ark." 

Clarke approached the place where Charlotte had her panic attack. "But what we do have is an infinite of the drought and not enough workers."

"So penal working hours?" he stood in the same spot, asking her from two feet behind her.

"And the banishment."

Heavy, suffocating silence fell on them suddenly. Clarke wanted a few things: to find a murderer, punish them for their crime and to implement the order once and for all. She didn't want to risk not a single life more.

More than ever, she felt similar to her mother. It was surely impossible to raise someone without them inheriting even one of a parent's feature. Apparently that was the feature Clarke inherited after her mother.

Ruthlessness as a last resort.

She didn't see that, but a sudden worry flashed in Bellamy's eyes. "You lost your damn mind," he said to her stiffly.

Her gaze was locked on the ground, where she'd seen Charlotte, and then she looked at the place that was usually occupied by Murphy and his friends. Then, at the spot where Jasper had found the bowl and finally - at the wall that Octavia had pressed Clarke to, trying to jug her.

This place was soaked with odium.

"Maybe," she replied, facing Bellamy, "but that doesn't change the fact that the killed deserves it."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but this place is filled with killers," he contradicted, not seeing any sense in her logic.

After all, the Delinquents weren't called like that for no reason.

"Every single one of them has spent their time in the skybox, and was sent down here to die. That was their punishment. Here, another crime was commited and it must be answered, too."

Bellamy stayed quiet for a longer moment. He hanged his gaze on one of the walls, battling himself.

Clarke was counting on his support. Maybe naively. But she knew the others listened to him and found him the leader, even if whatever the hell we want rule was creating more problems than it was solving.

They had to change things. And they had to do it together.

After a beat, he looked back at her. With a frown, iron gaze and arms folded he wasn't very promissing. In his amber eyes Clarke saw a specific mixture of feelings.

She was aware that the end of ignorance and bad attitude towards one another wasn't a friendship. Clarke cared more about that thread of communication they managed to achieve. About that understanding they gained and the weight they were sharing, unwillingly becoming a leadership along the way.

And when Bellamy was about to answer, few rays of light beamed above their heads, and with that, there was a sudden, joyful, scream.

Monty's, most probably.

"We did it! We've reached the Ark!"

And the upper part of the dropship filled with a massive, celebratory cheer. Even down there were those with the wristbands, hopeful for their family reunions. They had the closest up there, caring about them. And it was mutual. They finally had a chance to meet them. Enormous distance between them seemed to disappear right away. 

They felt pulled out of reality.

But there were the others, who didn't share their enthusiasm.

The news made Clarke both happy for others and feared for a meeting with her mother. But just like the other feelings, they were swallowed by a sudden, spilled on her soul darkness.

When she glanced at Bellamy, he was already leaving the dropship, vanishing behind the curtain. Concerned, she followed him as fast as she could, bumping into a merciless sunlight. Apparently, the news reached the outside, because the tents were filled with joy as well as with the uncertainty of wristband-less Delinquents. But Clarke didn't pay much attention to that. 

Making a sunshade out of her hand, she looked around and saw a brown-haired gut walking away somewhere on her right. Doing her best, she tried to reach him. A while after walking off the ramp, she realised she wouldn't be able to. He was few feet away, going towards the dry field of a dead land.

"Bellamy, wait!" she screamed, but the air was filled with the same, deaf screech.

However, after few more steps, he came to a standstill.

Clarke tried to slow her breath, slowly approaching Bellamy. And when she was right behind him, she had no idea what to say. She didn't want him to do something reckless and impulsive.

She didn't...

She didn't want him to leave. They needed him.

"They will find out I'm alive. They will come down and kill me, Clarke," he spoke, it seemed, being far away from reality. "I won't protect Octavia."

And then, just like that, she realised his sister made him who he was. Every stupid thing he did, that was for her. She was the last person in the universe he cared about. "And she..."

"She doesn't know," he cut her, still not facing her, but lifted his head.

Whatever it was that he did, it was bad enough to hide it from the only valuable person in his life. It sent chills down Clarke's spine. But at the same time, it made her more annoyed. "So what are you going to do?" she asked bitterly. "If you run away, you won't keep her safe, and you will die anyway in the fog or God knows what else." 

He didn't answer.

"Maybe you don't see it, but these people need you. To survive and not to kill each other. They follow you, they listen to you, they pin their hopes on in you." 

Still nothing.

"Maybe if Chancellor-"

"She won't pardon me, Clarke!" he rapidly faced her, standing dangerously close. "How many people have to die, till you realise you're not almighty Chancellor's daughter?!"

She took a step back, noticing the anger beaming from his gaze. There was also a spark of desperation. Pain. He had no hope for another option. He didn't see any. All he saw was his dead end, and refused to accept any other possibility.

Clarke, however, wasn't offended by his words. Maybe the outburst itself surprised her, but didn't hurt her. He reminded her of one important fact. She smiled, feeling defeated, looking numbly with no flash in her eyes.

"I can't save everyone, right?" She looked at the sky, and determined, she came back to Bellamy. "Maybe. But it won't stop me from trying to pardon you and the others."

He only fought with his emotions, shaking his head. "Not this time."

It was clear that his feelings were biting him from the inside. He was overthinking, or not thinking at all. His jaw clenched, lips folded in a slim line. His breathing was deep, as if the weight on his shoulder was physically there.

She couldn't do it anymore. Her hands spaced out hopelessly, as she sighed exhausted. "What did you do, Bellamy?"

He rubbed his face again. Clarke noticed he did it everytime he had no idea what to think. Or to do. He kind of opened up to her for the first time. She saw what he felt. He didn't hide under his stoic skepticism.

He was Bellamy, who was only struggling with the demons of his past. 

His eyes closed, looking actually defeated. Then, he looked away, shaking his head again. It wasn't annoyance, mockery, distance, bordom, exhaustion or numbness. Just a sorrow.

"I can't tell you, Clarke. I just can't."

She nodded, not caring whether he saw it or not. "Alright, that's your secret. But I'm not taking back what I've said." She turned around, going back to the dropship.

She said what she wanted to say. But what she didn't plan at all was being almost rammed by Octavia, who just appeared outside. She threw the curtain and passed her in full madness. And Clarke had an idea what was the reason behind that. 

It was certain, when she saw her rushing towards her brother. "You asshole!" her hand strongly hit his cheek. "You said it was for a food theft!"

Bellamy straightened and grabbed her by her wrists. "Be quiet. Listen to me-"

"I don't wanna listen to you! You're dead to me, you hear me?! I hate you!" She got away from his grips, tears on her cheeks. "When they come down..." 

And a sudden sob took her voice away.

Bellamy pulled her to his chest, with guilt and pain on his face, when Octavia was crying in a sleeve of his t-shirt. Everyone could see their bond. But only they knew their feelings about one another. They wanted what was best for one another. No matter how bad the situation was.

"We will figure this out," Bellamy said, caressing his sister's head.

Not many people saw what was happening. Most of them was in the dropship, listening the news from the Ark, or waiting for their turn to talk with a family. Moreover, not everyone outside really paid them attention.

Almost no one.

But Clarke did. And when from above Octavia's shoulder Bellamy met her eyes, he slightly shaked his head. She finally answered with a nod, understanding what he meant, and disappeared behind the curtain.

But in fact, there was a completely different plan in her head. A really bad one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the action goes on! Some cute, but also tough, sad moments, indeed. But nothing that's sad or cute is lasting for very long. It becomes better. Or worse. 
> 
> See ya next week, loves!


	5. We Need Rules

In few minutes, Clarke was about to talk to Vice-Chancellor Jaha and tell him what had happened to his son.

He surely had hope for the meeting with him again, since he found out about the rebellious acts of taking off the wristbands and false death alarms connected to it.

And she had to tear apart and take this hope right from his heart, which would shatter in her hands anyway.

Firstly, she had to get upstairs for the first time since they'd landed. Her ankle was the problem, which was going back to its finest, yet still needed a support and limitation from any sort of movement. Her shoulder was healing much quicker, but Clarke didn't find this reassuring enough. The journey upstairs was not going to be easy at all.

Well, at this point there was no other option.

Clarke put her iron tube away, which she was using as a fake crutch, placed herself in front of a ladder and started to think of how would it work. It was harder than she thought. She needed a lot of patience and strength, but even more, she wanted to be done with the climbing.

But still, the worst was waiting for her right after that.

She grabbed the first rung with her hand, located little higher than her head, and did the same thing with the other arm. Jumping few times on her healthy leg, each time higher, she fastened almost all of her muscles and managed to land on the lowest rung below her.

She did it.

And when she repeated this sequence dozens of times, her arms were screaming for rest and her lungs were begging for much more air than they could get. Finally, she reached a gap in the upper floor with her head.

"Here, give me your hand," said a boy with chocolate, warm, slant eyes, almost black hair and this as Jasper's figure. He was holding out a hand, which Clarke used with gratitude to finally get there with his help.

To get to the room full of wires, antennas, few mattresses and who knows what else.

In farthest place from them, she saw one of the seats, which they threw away before to get some space in the dropship, located in front of a massive, yet quite shattered monitor. On the screen, she saw the boardroom of the Ark, which she recognized immediately.

They did it as well.

"Monty, right?" she looked at him, still impressed by his achievements.

He was already on his way down, half-visible, but he stopped the second he'd heard his name and glanced at Clarke friendly, but with a question in his eyes.

"All this, it's incredible," she showed at the surrounding space. "You did amazing job in here."

Monty only smiled back at it, and while continuing his way down, he replied. "All I wanted was to give everyone a chance to talk to their families." He shrugged faintly and disappeared from Clarke's sight, leaving her alone.

But she only wanted to talk to Vice-Chancellor, no one else. At the moment, at least. She did what she thought was right. That was her current priority. That's why when she sat down, put on the headphones and looked at the screen, she inhaled deeply.

There he was. The old man, so similar to his son.

And without a try, it hurt.

It took a while for the image of Clarke sitting in front of the Vice-Chancellor to reach the Ark, and their response took even longer. The man straightened up, visibly relieved and calmed. Something that made it all worse for Clarke.

"Clarke? You have no idea how good it is to see you safe and sound. I've heard about this terrible fog. Our scientists are already working on the problem."

She swallowed tears, suddenly unable to look at the screen. "Vice-Chancellor Jaha, there is you should know." Waiting for his response, she blinked, feeling more and more tears under her eyelids. She had to be tough that one time. She had to be an example of a leader who she was expected to be, and show that despite the fate, they were moving forward.

Not for the Ark, or for the Delinquents, or even for herself, but for someone who was farrer than any station or existing star in the universe.

"What happened? I've heard that seven of you... didn't make it."

That time, she looked back at him, noticing behind the pixels something she didn't want to ever notice. Something she was afraid of from the very beginning. Something that only complicated things and blurred his tough features.

It was hope.

She took a deeper breath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jaha," her voice quivered dangerously, unwillingly embracing quieter tone. "I'm so sorry..."

Shaking her head, she looked at Vice-Chancellor, who was still unaware of the tragedy coming his way. There was still a spark of hope in his eyes, the same spark his son used to have as well. He still understood nothing. He still waited for an answer. From Clarke's point of view, a long transmition seemed to save him.

But then, the spark was gone.

And there was only a father without a child.

His head slowly fell down on his hands put together, leaning on his elbows. Clarke barely saw the burden that crushed him through her own tears. What she felt was nothing compared to what Vice-Chancellor did in that very moment.

She couldn't imagine the pain of a parent losing someone whom they've been preparing for life since day one. Whom they've taught every little thing they could. How to speak. How to walk. How to think and how to feel.

The one they've created.

And the one someone from above decided to take away. Without a possibility to say goodbye. Just like that.

Instantly she felt guilty about her own mother, and Vice-Chancellor seemed to read her mind. He knew her ever since she was a little kid. And she knew him as long as she knew her best friend.

At the moment, even longer.

"Thank you, Clarke", he said weakly, with surrender. "Your mother would like to... talk with you".

She nodded, wiping away the unwanted tears with her wrist.

"I'll be there in the evening," she answered, but this time her voice was confident and unwavering.

And then she left, leaving him with his own feelings. In that moment she decided to bring her plan into life.

♦♦♦

After twenty minutes of searching their camp, she finally found her.

The sun had already set and the temperature dropped, and that meant - the campfire was lit. Around it, people placed empty, wooden boxes, armchairs, and anything that could be sit on and dragged out of the dropship. Clarke approached a girl sitting on one of these boxes, meanwhile carefully looking around.

The less people paid attention the better.

She sat next to the girl, as if nothing was happening with her eyes locked on the fire. Once more, without raising her head, she checked the surrounding.

The happiness of making contact with the ark kept most of the people in a good mood. Everyone managed to talk to their close ones. There wasn't a lot of talks, obviously.

At the moment every engineer, mechanic and chemist talked to the specialists on the Ark, taking whatever knowledge was necessary to keep Delinquents alive by the time the rest comes down. 

Anyway, no one was in the reach of Clarke's sight.

It was clear.

"I need a favor."

After that, she heard a snort.

"You want me to choke you again?" 

Brown-haired teenager didn't hold back, and she wasn't surprised. But in that moment she barely cared about the reluctance between them. Instead, she put her hands closer to the fire, pretending to be cold.

"I need you to-"

"You have a nerve to ask me for any-"

"You want Bellamy to be pardoned today?"

This question caused the silence full of tension hanging heavily in the air between them. Clarke knew that she would convince her with that and in the end, she would reach the goal. For the younger Blake it was her brother that was all she had left. They were each other's strenght and weakest points at the same time.

Finally, Octavia couldn't answer without irritation in unfriendly, bored tone of her voice.

"What do you want?"

Step number one, checked.

"First of all, secrecy".

♦️♦️♦️

Setting boundaries for over ninety criminals wasn't going to be easy.

Yet they had no choice. They couldn't let them create omnipresent chaos and any other lust for murder. That's why, before talking to her mother, Clarke told Jake - the blond guy from Jasper's crew - to gather every Delinquent in front of the dropship. Next, she decided to go look for Bellamy.

It didn't take her long, because from the place she was standing in, she saw him sitting on the box, on the other side of the dropship. In the Medical Corner.

As always he was wearing the navy blue shirt, on which - because of the evening temperature - he threw on black, military-like jacket. With his messy hair and posture saying: "If you talk to me, you better have a good reason", he didn't look like someone who wanted to have any human interaction with anyone ever.

But Clarke wasn't repelled at all.

When their eyes met, girl nodded her head towards the exit, and Bellamy, seeing that gesture, got up from the box.

Soon after that, they stood side by side in front of all the gathered Delinquents.

The sky was adorned by the first stars, and the darkness more and more emphasized the intensity of the campfire flames, that covered all of their faces with orange, almost yellow glow. Some of the teenagers were excited, others were anxious, and the small, last group - clearly bored.

Bellamy was the first to speak up.

"We gathered you here, so that every single one of you knows the rules, that from now on apply to all of us. With no exceptions," he started audibly, crossing his hands on chest. "If we want to survive, we have to immediately make the new laws."

The voices of objection started to rise. But before anyone could spread it further, Clarke took over.

"And most of all, we have to work together. Spliting into groups is only making it harder. The event that happened few days ago is not to happen," she glanced deadly over everyone "ever again." 

All of the sudden, ginger-haired girl spoke up. The one Clarke took care of the very first day.

"Why are you the one making those rules? You're-"

"If someone has any objections, they can leave," Bellamy interrupted her with his cold gaze. "But I'm afraid there is nowhere to go".

That made over ninety people go dead quiet in less than two seconds.

"The law will give us unity. And the unity - bigger chance of surviving," Clarke summed up.

And when they didn't heard any more upset groans, the leaders looked at each other briefly, knowing that they'd just gained the advantage. That was the key to success.

The key to a better life.

♦️♦️♦️

After an hour of explaining the rules to the Delinquents, Clarke went back to the dropship, where she had to face the worst of all.

She had to face her demons. One demon, to be precise.

When she was next to the screen, but still out of camera's reach, she saw her. In formal clothes, with her chestnut hair tied in a perfect ponytail, and with clear exhaustion written on her face.

Finally, she took a breath and sat down, anxiously putting on headphones and waiting in tension for Chancellor to notice her arrival. Even more specifically, waiting for her reaction to reach the dropship's receiver.

And then, dark eyes of Mrs. Griffin got brighter, filled with life and joy.

"Clarke, I'm so glad-" 

She covered her mouth, letting tears fall on her cheeks. Her child was safe in every meaning. Uncertainty went away, lifting the weight off her shoulders. The relief she was beaming with, seemed to find a home deep in her heart, settling there for good.

But Clarke didn't feel that relief.

"That I'm not Wells?" she asked with her voice terrifyingly cold, and suddenly felt the emotions she left with the bracelet on a deadland.

The negative ones.

After a beat, Chancellor closed her eyes, her face turning heavy and gloomy. Mixed with guilt. Happiness replaced with remorse.

"I know that you're in pain. I'm sorry..."

At those words, she frowned, quite confused and agitated.

"For what, exactly? Tell me." Her voice would lower the temperature on the whole draught.

The answer she got had only made her even more disappointed.

"For sending you to the ground, knowing, how dangerous it is. I didn't want this, Clarke, you have to believe me."

Even when Mrs. Griffin's voice started to crack, unwillingly, mentally hurting her, Clarke decided to let it all out and get it over with.

"I don't care about that," she shook her head. "You sent one hundred teenagers to die. You couldn't even make sure they land safely. And that alone cost five lives. Then the fog. Another two." She closed her eyes, feeling that if she won't calm down, she'll say something regretful. "You didn't even ask them."

Chancellor wanted to say something, but seeing Clarke not being done, she held back with big effort.

"In your eyes, they didn't deserve to know the truth. But they are not lab rats. They are your people. You should fill them with faith, not lies. Motivate them, not descriminate."

Not mentioning the enormous, empty field they'd sent them to.

Enforcing the law was one thing. But a living on the Ark that was created by government with Mrs. Griffin on the lead could've been different. Better. Without terror, mass executions or punishing the Arkadians for any offense. 

The silence that took over was painful. Clarke wanted to end this. To leave this chair and never come back, so that she wouldn't have to look at her, or to force herself to be that emotionless ever again. 

"I-" Chancellor's voice got hoarsed, so she slightly coughed to continue. "Tell me what to do, tell me... I can't lose you again".

She had the urge to tell her: nothing. There was nothing they could do to fix that. To bring back what they had years ago. They couldn't time travel. They couldn't cover the wounds, destroy the void, erase the memories. No matter how badly they wanted to.

They just weren't able do it. 

Clarke couldn't get her mother back, which she regretted so much. She knew it, because every time she looked at her, she saw the Chancellor of the Ark. That was the first thing she saw. It was burried deep in her subconscious.

But she decided to use the occasion. To search for the solution despite it all.

"Pardon the Delinquents for their crimes on the Ark. Primarily, Bellamy Blake."

She forced herself to look back at the screen.

After the usual time frame of signal going back and forth, the image of a woman reached her. She sat up straight, ready to object, but the very last second she looked at her daughter and sighed. That was where the complications begun to form.

"Are you aware of what he did?"

"I don't have to be. You wanted me to forgive you, didn't you?"

Clarke had to admit, she was quite curious.

"I can't. I cannot pardon someone, who's not even a part of the hundred."

Yet she didn't expect that, suddenly surprised. For a while she couldn't find the words, drowned in her thoughts. However, she kept on fighting. She made a deal and she had to do her part.

"Do you even know why he's there?"

A beat after that, pretty senseful, but full or surrender answer reached the speakers.

"His sister, Octavia Blake, is one of the hundred.

And all of the sudden, she knew how to convince her.

"He risked his life for his f a m i l y. How many people could do the same? How many?

They both knew that not so many.

Clarke couldn't get rid of the remorse ever since she destroyed the communication bracelet. Despite all that pain the woman has caused her and the other, as she knew then, ninety three Delinquents, she couldn't take her out of her heart.

When causing her pain, she also caused it herself.

"Okay, Clarke".

She wasn't glad she reached her goal.

"Convene a meeting for all the Delinquents at noon."

She nodded in response. Although there were certain obstacles, she knew how to solve them. What really mattered was: she did what she had to do.

She let her mother hope for the better days between the two of them.

"Okay, mom".

So she let herself to do so as well.

Clarke got down the ladder, glad that the hundred would be soon pardoned. One of her main issues had just been solved. The shadow hanging above them since ages vanished, chased away by the glimpse of hope.

When she looked for Octavia, she told the very first met person to spread the news about the meeting. Brown-haired teen wasn't in the dropship, so she went towards the exit, hoping she would find her outside. One step before the door, someone grabbed her shoulder.

That "someone" was Octavia herself.

"Did you do it?" she asked quietly, paying attention to people around them. They were too excited about the news to care about anything else.

Clarke nodded with a shadow of a smile.

"Even better."

Octavia raised her eyebrow in non-verbal question, but that was it, because right after that she left her, going back into the dropship. It must've been a way longer time for them to call their relation normal. Quite normal.

Everything seemed to head into the right direction.

Exactly, it seemed to.

"You know something about any meeting?"

Bellamy appeared in front of her faster than she could notice. The energy in the camp was getting into him as well, but in the other meaning of that word. His eyes were restless and his face tensed and sharp.

For a moment she hesitated between the truth and the lie. They've become co-leaders and they were in this together. They were both solving the problems and it's been like that up until that moment. They've just figured out the way to cooperate.

But she didn't forget the words of her mother and she didn't forget that Bellamy wasn't one of the hundred. It explained why he looked a bit older. He was hiding the truth because of the lack of trust and he had a full right not to trust her. 

No one was innocent. Everyone had their secrets.

And this time it was Clarke who had to hide some facts for the good of Delinquents. For their future. Even though the piercing, amber gaze was telling her to do the opposite.

"Supposedly it's going to be at noon. That's all I know".

And she switched her gaze from him to the wall behind him.

"They will probably tell us when should we expect them down here and-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but it's an urgent matter." Jasper stopped near the dwo of them with anxiety beaming from his eyes.

Clarke frowned.

"What happened?"

"In the place, where previously there was a bowl with a medicine mixture, we found also medicine packages, which were nearby the supplies and-"

"The point, Jasper," Bellamy got impatient with the chatter.

Instead of continueing the story, he took out a small, ripped at the bottom, dark grey shirt and held it in Clarke's direction.

"You recall that?"

When she saw the material, her first thought was...

"The bandage," she recognized it, suddenly numb.

"The same person made the mixture," chemist judged it straight up.

All three of them tried to thinnk of any possible solution. Clarke saw how both Jasper and Bellamy moving their gazes from shirt to already new bandage on her wrist, back and forth.

Jasper knew about her strange wounds much more. He worked on the substance that was in the bandage, and basically had some knowledge about it. It was his speciality from the beginning. Down here, he was the closest person to Clarke.

Meanwhile Bellamy's face, besides ponder and scepticism, expressed confusion as well. Clarke couldn't figure him out. He stopped looking at the material, more and more drowned in his thoughts, visibly cumulating in his head with every second passing.

But she felt the answers to all of that in the back of her head. As if her subconscious knew it already.

They were so close to the truth.

"Do you know whose shirt it is?" Clarke asked Jasper with hope she hadn't seen in herself in a very long time.

Just like the other two.

"It's the shirt of someone really, really thin, or-"

And the conclusion fell on Clarke as a pile of bricks.

"A child."

She became deadly pale, when she turned around and headed to the dropship door.

"Clarke, you don't think that-"

"No, but I'm going to find out," she interrupted Jasper, who along with Bellamy followed her quick steps.

She wasn't on the inside, so Clarke stepped outside, where she met the fire and the darkest sky. Looking around the Delinquents, she beamed with determination, hope and anxiousness.

The truth seemed to be right behind the corner and she didn't know if she was ready to face it. If she wanted to know. If she could actually face it.

"There". Jasper pointed the place on the left, in between the tents. The darkness of that part made it harder to notice two moving shapes. She was there. Standing next to the unknown girl. Clarke noticed how the little girl was curled up, when the stranger walked energetically back and forth.

Jasper and Bellamy didn't even notice, when Clarke disappeared and found herself already facing them.

"Is this yours?" Without further ado, she pulled out the ripped shirt in front of Charlotte, but at first she didn't recognized the item. It took her few seconds to do so and,then, her face went completely loose and numb.

"Is it?" Clarke's voice broke in the end, exposing how desperately she needed to know the truth.

Neither she, nor her companions noticed how quiet it was getting around them.

Charlotte shook her head vividly.

"No, it's not. I don't know whose shirt is that."

Right there, Clarke closed her eyes, taking a deep inhale. The girl was lying, obviously. If she'd had nothing to do with that piece of material, she wouldn't have reacted to it so strangely. She wouldn't have denied. Panicked.

So the hypothesis became the undeniable fact, and the loss hit her heart once more. She felt how the beat in her chest was no longer there. She felt dead.

"Don't lie. Just tell me the truth." When she looked at the child again, she was the clear panic in her eyes. She didn't answer, looking at something behind her, then on the ground, breaking apart from the chaos of emotions inside her.

And then, she exploded, making few bold steps in Clarke's direction.

"It was meant for you! I had no choice!"

Everything went silent. Charlotte continued.

"He told me to give you that water, but Wells drank it before-"

"W h o told you?"

And just like that the girl lost her voice, realising what she'd said. One tear slowly rolled down her cheek when she looked down.

Clarke felt how the need to know the truth was too much. She wanted this to be done. Wanted to banish the murdered, who would suffer a cold night on their own in a deadland, away from the camp. So when they come back at dawn, their food supplies would be cut in half, and work hours doubled.

Just the way their new law said.

"My brother, Finn Collins."

But that was something she prefered not to hear.

The shock that hit her had nothing to do with discovering another pair of siblings.

From the crowd emerged the boy that was mentioned. He approached his sister in a flash.

"What did I tell you?!" he shouted, grabbing Charlotte by the shoulders and throwing his gaze at the girl next to them, the one who was quite the whole time.

"Finn?" Clarke couldn't believe. She didn't want to believe.

His dark, brown hair was longer than she remembered. She had no idea he was one of the hundred. Casual, dark-green jacket, black t-shirt and trousers hit her stronger than she would've ever admitted.

Her first love.

"Clarke," he answered reservedly when he took effort to actually look at her.

They were a couple for years. They used to get along quite well. Even very well. They saw nothing but each other, spending time on the Ark and watching the space together. They were happy.

Until his parents were floated. He never told her what they were sentenced for. And for what he was sentenced as well. She only knew that ever since then he blamed Clarke for his parents' death. Everything they had fell apart. Love turned into hatred.

"You must be aware of the new rules and so you know what's your punishment for murdering Wells Jaha." Bellamy spoke from behind, and Clarke felt he was nearby, on her left. She felt the shadow of support. He wanted him to be there.

She didn't turn, however, still looking at Finn with disgust. But she wasn't able to turn anyway. She couldn't, ever since he came to his sister. Ever since she knew what he'd done.

He wanted to kill her. But he killed her best friend.

"You're sentenced to exile immediately," Bellamy added, without emotions in sight. "You have ten minutes to pack what's necessary. Only at dawn you'll be allowed to come back."

Finn looked at him with a grain of salt, standing still for a while. He eyed him with no shame. Finally, he moved, but when his sister grabbed him by the sleeve, he looked at her and whispered something in her ear. After that he headed to the dropship.

Both Charlotte and the strange girl ran after him, and people began to spread. Clarke still stared at the place the three of them were standing in just seconds ago.

She knew. The truth was heavy, but at the same time it got rid of helplessness and unawareness. It hurt, but things getting clear let her move on. At least she hoped they would let her. That was what she truly needed.

To move on.

She flinched when a hand landed on her shoulder. When she turned her head, her eyes met the amber brown, barely visibly grievous ones.

"We did what we had to do," he said, it seemed, consolingly.

She only managed to nod.

Clarke was grateful for his support. Or just for reassuring words. The leader could've only been understood by another leader and that was one of the most valuable things they had.

Exhaustion reached her and she could tell it didn't reach her only. The hand on her shoulder was almost a burden. Yet she decided to ignore it. He also had a rough day, because it surely wasn't easy to tell someone they were banished, right in the face, in front of everyone else.

She looked away and focused her gaze where a moment ago stood the ghosts of her past.

"Like always."

They stood in silence for a while. Clarke spoke up again.

"I'll be the one to banish him. I have to-"

"Honor his memory. He would understand."

Without looking at him, she felt a small smile on her lips. There was a grain of truth.

"We can go!" The voice from the dropship took Bellamy's hand of her shoulder, and brought their eyes towards Finn.

With not so big bag on his shoulders he stepped outside, heading in their direction. Behind him: Charlotte, the same, strange girl, Jasper and few others.

It was time.

"I heard Octavia takes a night shift. She'll let you know as soon as... we come back." She informed Bellamy, once more looking at him, when he, hesitating for a second, took something out of his jacket.

It threateningly flashed with the campfire light. After a beat, she recognized the object, having strange, anxious feeling.

"Take it. Just in case." He pulled a piece of metal wrapped in a black material out in her direction.

A sharp piece of metal.

For another moment she looked at him, trying to notice any hidden motives in his behavior. But when she found nothing but hurrying, impatient stare, she finally pulled out her hand and he passed her the weapon.

And again, that weird feeling, when his hand brushed hers for a second.

"Thank you."

To which he only nodded, looking away at the waiting crowd. Clarke looked there as well, with a knot in her stomach and uncertainty lurking on her shoulders. She took a deep breath, preparing for one of the hardest nights since landing on the ground.

And finally, she moved forward, leaving Bellamy behind. Her footsteps echoing on the dry, solid soil seemed to rumble all around her in the rhythm of her fast beating heart. That time, she took a deep inhale to find strength in the deep corners of her mind.

She walked past Finn without a word, heading to the north-west from the dropship door. The light from the campfire was fading scarily fast, covering her with more and more darkness. After a while she heard heavy footsteps behind her.

Looking over her shoulder at the crowd around the fire, she saw everyone watching them and exchanging whispers. Among them, she found Octavia leaning on the dropship wall outside. And she, noticing Clarke's gaze, slightly nodded.

Clarke nodded back, and then she turned away, in a direction of their journey.

Quite unpleasant journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bitsy late, but it’s been a busy few days. Hoping you like the chapter and huge thank you for all the kudos, hits and comments. <33


	6. The Rebel

He had trouble sleeping.

As always, anyway.

Once he fell asleep, he woke up still surrounded by the darkness. At some point the noise of the camp opened his eyes and the rays of sunshine greeted him, shining through the dark green of his tent. He felt relieved. Putting his shirt on, he walked outside, seeing the sun hanging straight above him.

It was noon.

He went to the dropship already filled with Delinquents, didn't understanding a thing. From the place he was at the moment, loud sound of a woman's voice was humming from the inside. Chancellor's voice. He sped up his pace, recalling the meeting that was planned exactly at noon.

He was hoping it wasn't too late. But when he came inside, he noticed that he was right on time.

"And that means, we'll join you in a couple of days."

The cheers echoed around. Bellamy looked around, trying to find his sister. He didn't see her down there. Neither was she in the Medical Corner, nor in place where Murphy and his friends used to sit in.

But there he noticed someone else.

Finn. He slept like a log, wearing the same clothes he did yesterday. He definitely looked tired, and Bellamy wasn't surprised. Clarke apparently came back in the night, and Finn - at the dawn, just like their new law said. Octavia didn't tell him about any complications, so he suspected everything went just as planned.

"After long debates, the counsil decided that what happened on the Ark, will stay there-"

"Bell!" His sister approached him with a huge smile on her face and with some weird spark in her eyes.

He didn't see her like that ever since they came down on Earth. He didn't get why she was so joyful. It wasn't like he had any problem with it. He would do anything to make her smile like that more often, but...

She knew very well what would happen to him as soon as the Ark gets down.

And it was nothing good.

"The only thing to do now is to get to the point."

Bellamy frowned, looking up in the voice's direction. He felt his heart beating like crazy in his chest. Anxious and lost at the same time. There was something wrong in all of this and he felt it in every inch of his body.

"Bellamy Blake, you're pardoned for your crimes."

And right there, he understood.

"Jasper Jordan, you're pardoned for your crimes. Harper McIntyre-"

The relief that fell on him was indescribable. His muscles loosened up, as if they were tensed from the very first second on the ground. Maybe even longer. Deep exhale left his mouth, his eyelids fell down involuntarily. Everything around him seemed to fade out.

He had no idea if he could let himself believe it. Maybe it was just a surreal dream. It was impossible. For the longest time he'd lived in tension, in fear, and then it was all gone after one, simple sentence said by the Chancellor.

Bellamy Blake, you're pardoned for your crimes.

It was too good to be true.

He felt the strong hug around his torso. When he looked down, he saw his sister smiling even more, with tears in her pretty, blue-green eyes from relief that everyone else felt. After a beat he put his hands on her back, taking in the feeling so forgotten and pure.

And after a very long while he put the pieces together and came to the conclusion. It was more than suspicious. Octavia's smile, her night shift, and a lack of any fights she took part in. And not a single sign of surprise from hearing they were pardoned.

His embrace suddenly got stiff.

"You knew."

The girl slowly got out of his arms and looked away.

"It's not what you think-"

"Then what is it, O? I don't think you were glad because they're coming down here." He crossed his arms, looking at her with his eyelids slightly squinted. "How did you know we would get pardoned?"

She leaned on her hips with both of her hands, keeping her head up with confidence. If he didn't know her, he would say that it was a dangerous spark shining in her eyes.

"I don't have to explain myself."

"Answer the question."

He gave her a tough, serious gaze, waiting for her to say anything, when everyone else was still excited by that one, sudden plot twist. He heard cries, screams of happiness and even loud cheers of regained life. No one saw that coming.

As Bellamy just found out, a l m o s t no one.

Octavia seemed to loose the mental fight between them, when she finally sighed annoyed, dropping her arms down.

"Don't you even care that they've just saved us? Like, at all?"

Then he was the one to deeply exhale.

"Of course I care, it's just-"

And then it occured to him.

Saved.

"I can't save everyone, right?"

Before he knew he was already outside. The sun painfully hit his eyes, so he covered the light with his hand. He looked around, searching for a glimpse of blond hair.

"Bellamy-"

"It was Clarke, wasn't it?"

He watched as his sister unwillingly nodded. Then, he looked forward again, embracing yet another, surprising fact.

She did it. He didn't think she would be able to.

He was, it seemed, impressed. Back in the day he thought she was someone who threw meaningless words around just to gain respect and seriousness from others. However, with all that had happened up until that point, he knew she was actually keeping her every word, no matter what it was. With causion she spoke her mind and expressed all of her judgements.

And she convinced her mother to pardon over ninety criminals. Including him.

For a moment he wondered if she knew what he'd done on the Ark and what crime had he comitted. He was surprised that he even cared about that. But all of the thoughts went away, and gratitude filled his lungs, forcing an exhale of relief. Even a brief smile.

He was pardoned.

He went down the dropship door, still looking around and still followed by Octavia. After a failed search outside, he thought she might've been on the upper floor, where he didn't happen to be yet.

And then, recalling previous smile of his sister, chills went down his spine.

He stood still.

"And how are y o u involved in this?" He turned around to face her.

On her face were flashing multiple, unknown emotions boiling on the inside. She bit her lip, frowned and looked away with her feet stamping anxiously. Someone else would call it an anger, but he knew better. She acted like that whenever she got trapped.

Or felt helpless. Every time she had to hide under the floor, hiding from the guards, she behaved just like that.

He knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"She offered me a deal."

He prefered to mishear that part.

"W h a t deal?"

Something bad happened and he felt it. He had this gut feeling ever since he heard his name being the first one to be called by the Chancellor.

It was certain, when she said:

"She pardons you, and I help her run away."

♦️♦️♦️

Only when the dropship was no longer in reach, rays of the sun and heated air truly showed what they got.

She walked for good hours. The camo from there was just a blurry, small dot. A cap turned out to be a weak protection for the long march in ruthless sunlight. Her skin turned red and it burned her with every small brush of a skin. Not to mention the bag on her back, in which she carried her chance for survival.

And it wasn't the light one.

It was high time for a break. She tossed the bag on the dry ground, the sight of which she clearly had enough of. Out of the bag she took out one of the smallest tents there were in the dropship. Setting it up took her way longer than it should've, because of exhaustion and unbridled need to sleep.

When she got inside, both relief and suffocating air got into her lungs. Besides physical gauntness and dificulty breathing, she didn't notice anything worrisome. Miraculously, she could say she wasn't going to have a sunstroke.

She grabbed some water, still remembering to save it for later. When she sat down, she threw the piece of metal away, cursing her ankle in mind. She tried to walk on it, and it only ended with a huge, ugly swelling.

If it wasn't for that, she would've been much further.

She decided to wait for the temperature to drop, and then continue her walk. It was certain that she would lose even more time, but in exchange she would avoid a sunstroke and a brutality of the draught.

In her thoughts, she thanked Octavia for what she'd done for her. Maybe it was just a deal, but still it had the second depth, second meaning. For both of them.

Jasper should've noticed her absence by that time. He, or anyone else. She was supposed to be back at night, waiting for Finn at dawn, when majority of people would've been asleep anyway.

But well, plans change.

Clarke found pros in being where she was, and not in the camp. She was no longer surrounded by the hate, or pain, that she'd caused others by her presence alone. Most of them probably dreamt of her being gone for good. Of her disappearing just like that. Unnoticeably. Without a fuss.

When she lied down tired on the dry ground, she thought:

Dreams come true.

♦️♦️♦️

He didn't waste the time. Details could've waited.

When he came back to the dropship and noticed Finn not sleeping anymore, but sitting with his sister and the same, stranger in one of the corners, he approached him fast, but carefully.

"You guys having fun?"

Sarcastic question interrupted their conversation. Three sets of eyes landed on him at the same time. Every one of these representing different emotions. Charlotte beamed with fear, the stranger - with hatred, and Finn only looked at him with a raised brow.

"Not complaining."

And Bellamy didn't say a word, but pulled him by his collar and raised him up on his feet. Right after that, pulled his shoulder and took few meters away, ignoring the protests of other two. The boy raised his hands in sign of defeat, but it didn't look like an honest expression. More like some kind of lame joke.

"Now you're gonna tell me what happened the moment when Clarke was supposed to get back to camp and leave you for your banishment. Unless I gave you not enough work hours?" He didn't hold back hate and disgust in his voice.

Finn finally got out of his grip. He looked at him without a single emotion, carelessly. Bellamy easily noticed that no form of threat would've worked on that guy.

Colling brushed the invisible dust off his shirt, straightening it with his hands, as if the harassed clothing was the biggest problem he had.

"What can I say? She told me to go, so I didn't object."

That didn't land well.

That time Bellamy grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pressed him hard against the very first wall he saw. Finn made him mad like no one else. He behaved as if he didn't kill anyone. As if he didn't take their last breath. As if he wasn't a murderer. He showed no remorse at all. He wasn't even sorry.

Especially when Wells wasn't his actual target.

"Here I thought we all want it. I still think so." He answered with visible wince. He was literally asking for more bruises.

"Get to the point, Collins."

To that, he only raised his brows.

"Since when you're so impatient?" he asked with a shameless smile, but it was clear he finally gave up.

Bellamy let go of his shirt, letting him sit on the box nearby. He sat down himself on the other one, feeling uncomfortable around him.

Collins began to talk not long after that.

"I thought the worst was over." He stared at the wall behind Bellamy, unconsciously playing with his fingers.

"You've made a mistake coming here with me" he said, when they've finally stopped.

Clarke apparently wasn't bothered by the threat hanging in that sentence.

"I start to think so, too." She didn't even look at him, looking somewhere far away of her. She was about to leave him and go back to camp she'd never supposed to be in. She didn't deserved that, he knew it for sure. Not even a bit.

"Give me your bag." Suddenly she fronted him, dead serious. However, she didn't look him in the eyes, what he saw as the opportunity.

"I got a better idea."

Before Clarke could've understand what he did, she lost the balance and was pressed to the ground by his foot. When he saw her taking deeper breaths because of the impact, he smiled in a victory. He flippantly raised the corner of his lip.

"You like that, Princess?"

He wanted to laugh so loud, seeing her face. That was the nickname he called her by when they were still together. When she hadn't ruined anything. When she was still innocent and good. Then, he lost everything, and the reason for it was finally under his shoe, like a bug.

He didn't notice when she kicked his leg on the ground with full force, and he fell down heavily right next to her. The pain in his left shoulder went through him hard. He couldn't help the groan full of suffering.

He opened his eyes, when the cold metal touched his neck.

She kneeled in front of him, holding something sharp on his skin. In the moonlight he saw a black, handmade handle and he felt that it hadn't been the first time he'd seen it.

The girl was roughly panting in front of him, having sharp, confident look. Connected lips, big frown and clasped jaw. That time, she looked him right in the eye.

And he saw there an anger so powerful, that for a beat he became terrified.

"Now you're gonna give me your bag." She hissed slowly and clear.

Not dreaming of bleeding out in the middle of the pseudo-draught, he took off one strap from his unharmed shoulder, letting the bag drop somewhere behind him. He rolled on his stomach. It wasn't a second and the girl without hesitation took off the other strap, making his pain spread again, equally strong as before.

"Thoughtful," he said with sarcasm.

When he looked up, he saw Clarke with the bag on her back and a piece of metal she used as a crutch. Putting her weight on the healthy leg, she took that piece in both of her hands, letting one tear roll down her cheek. But her face was deadly still.

A drop of water on a marble.

"I loved you, Finn."

And the metal tube coming his way was the last thing he managed to see. 

"And when I woke up, it was night, my head hurt a lot and she was already gone." He put his arm up, shrugging. "I waited for the dawn and came back to camp. Octavia, what's weird, wasn't so surprised by Clarke's absence.

During the story, Bellamy sat still, with his eyes locked on the same wall that he pressed Finn to moments ago. He was still looking at it when he spoke up.

"I was about to ask how dumb you have to be to lay a hand on a woman," he said, coldly looking at Finn "but then I realized who I'm talking to."

Finn only raised his brow, looking away. He probably answered him sarcastically in his head.

"How can I be sure you're not lying?" Bellamy asked, trying to put pieces together.

He was so done with that guy for the rest of his life and the only thing on his mind was to leave. But he had to know. He needed to.

Finn in response rolled the trousers' leg up, showing him big, ugly bruise on his calf.

"She's got a kick. But if it wasn't for that stupid piece of metal, she would've been so lucky." He looked at Bellamy with confidence. "And now I know where I recalled it from."

He understood what he meant.

Bellamy saved her life.

Theoretically they were even. They both needed the favor. But he, when he gave her his weapon, wasn't aware that she helped pardon him and the hundred. And she had no idea that because of the weapon she would save herself from Finn.

Bellamy stood up, not caring to say a word. But when he was one feet away from the exit, he heard:

"You'll always be a part of it. Whatever you're going to do."

But he didn't turn around, even if the words moved something in him. Even if they pulled the fragile string in his soul, it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Finally he got out, leaving him behind.

Literally and not.

The sun hit him again, but that time he was prepared. Seconds later he was in his tent.

A while after that came Octavia. Maybe it was telepathy, or just a coincidence. But he knew one thing for sure: he needed his sister, and she came with remorse on her pure, pretty face.

"I'm sorry, Bell. I hate lying to you, but when I had the chance-"

"It's okay, O." He interrupted, looking at her fighting the guilt.

His sister went quiet for a while, surprised with how quickly the topic ended. She was watching Bellamy and frowned, when she noticed something strange. She couldn't point the finger at it. But it was there.

And the just knew it.

"What did you hear?"

Bellamy only sighed.

"I heard that Clarke hit Finn in the head, he lost consciousness and has no idea where did she go." He turned his irritated gaze at her.

Hearing that, Octavia raised her brows in surprise, apparently deciding not to comment on the first part. She obviously had issues with believing that scenario.

But she didn't miss her brother's expression.

"It's not just about returning the favors."

For a second he gave her a bored, doubtful sight, then locked his eyes on a tent exit.

"She starts to somehow matter to you."

Instead of replying, he recalled the first night on Earth. Everything went quickly in unpredictable direction. Ended up on Clarke standing next to him on a dropship door, showing him her discovery.

It's not a star.

We're not alone.

That was it.

Easier than he could've imagined.

Before he shared his theory with Octavia, she suddenly ran out of the tent. Bellamy wanted to follow her, but they almost bumped into each other when she reappeared in the exit with a shortwave transmitter in hand.

"I remember Finn putting the identical one in his bag. That means she has it now." Here she pressed the button and the device made a sharp noise. "Clarke, it's Octavia, come in. Clarke..."

In the meantime Bellamy started to pack his things in a bag, and the noise disappeared.

"What are you doing?" Octavia asked confused, maybe even mad.

"I know where she went." 

But when he wanted to leave and get other things from the dropship, they heard a discontinuous voice on the other side of walkie-talkie.

"The drop... You ha... Fast..."

Despite the broken connection, they recognized the voice and looked at each other. Bellamy felt a glimpse of relief.

She was alive.

Octavia left the tent to get closed to the dropship, which could've helped the transmission. He was right behind her. The tension was getting even bigger because of the noisy crowd of teens surrounding them, making it harder to reach the aim.

"The connection isn't clear. What's going on? Can you hear me?" Younger Blake tired to hold the conversation.

And when they finally got inside, they heard it clearer:

"Go to the dropship. You have to... get everyone... The fog..." Clarke with confident, yet weak voice kept on repeating the same words.

It was bad. 

Octavia briefly looked at her brother with her green eyes. She was evidently anxious for someone who didn't get along with Chancellor's daughter. She started asking Clarke about her condition and how far she was from the camp, when Bellamy, suddenly awoken and pulled back into reality, got out of the dropship and screamed:

"The fog is coming! Everyone get inside, now!"

He didn't have to repeat. He got out of the way exactly seconds before the wave of terified Delinquents coming in, and looked at the horizon, at the forest, at the blinking spot. There, he barely noticed the fog. From here, it seemed to be a small, yellow dot.

But it was obvious that it carried pure hell.

Shivers went down his spine when he looked at the horizon for the last time.

Coming back inside, he started to calm the Delinquents stuck in the same chaos as in the first fog. The difference was: there was three people less inside of the dropship. One of them still alive.

He felt the blackness sneaking into his mind. As if someone told him the unexpected ending of a book. Ruthless and unchangable.

He pulled the lever. After a while, a loud bang of closed door filled the dropship.

Bellamy's glare landed where his sister was standing seconds ago. She was still there, talking fast through the device and holding her head. It didn't make him feel better.

When he approached her, she stopped moving, with wide eyes open looking at the walkie-talkie. Then, she looked at Bellamy.

He stopped right beside her and took the device from her hand.

"Clarke. Come in. It's Bellamy. Do you hear me? Come in. Clarke-"

When he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at Octavia, he saw how she slightly shook her head. He let go of the button.

The silence took over.

He stared at the device as if it was strange. Taken out of reality. Surreal.

The fog got to her a while ago, and the tent wouldn't have stopped the biting cloud from getting inside.

The silence took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy ending, ah! I love how I leave u hanging. Thanks for all the feedback, I couldn't wish for more! <33 See ya next week, loves!


	7. The Calm After The Storm

The draught after the fog looked no different.  
The same beige-earthy land was spreading further than the eye could reach. Sun was reaching the west while the darkness was slowly coming in, taking small steps as it was swallowing the sharp edge of the horizon. 

And in the middle of the draught was a tent. Not big, pale green and zipped to the bottom. Massive, empty space around it only emphasized, how out of place it was. Lonely, surrounded by the void as the star in endless galaxy.

Inside of it was open, filled with food and a bit of medicine, pale brown bag, next to it a piece of a metal tube and a black, thick sleeping bag in the middle of it.

And only that.

♦️♦️♦️

As soon as they noticed the fog was gone through undamaged windows, delinquents opened the dropship door. Walked outside, going back to normal as if they'd spent last hours on some gathering and talking and not on saving themselves from the lethal fog.

When they were still inside, Bellamy came to Monty with a shortwave transmitter and told him to measure distance, from which the second device was working and to connect it with another one that will be left in the dropship to contact the delinquents. He also managed to pack most of the resources, that were necessary to get back safe and sound.

Or to simply not die.

Only few things were left to get and that's what he was about to take care of. He was on the upper floor, kneeling in front of his bag, thinking of ways to survive toxic fog without a shelter. He wanted to prevent the darkest scenario constantly flooding his mind, even though he knew it was nearly impossible.

The silence kept on ringing in his ears.

"Octavia said you're going to get Clarke."

With the corner of his eye he saw a pair of thin legs. He put his head up to see Jasper, stood up, facing him. Or not straight up face to face, since he was a bit taller. Jasper's height made up for his thin body.

Bellamy hasn't changed his face expression. He looked at the boy unmoved and annoyed, and that clearly was his everyday face.

"When the Chancellor comes down and finds out her daughter is gone, I don't want to be around." And not paying him anymore attention, he approached the ladder to get some food rations.

"Right... But you both have to hurry. We don't know when the fog will hit again and-"

Even though Jasper haven't noticed, Bellamy frowned, clearly confused. He stopped right in front of the hole in the floor, looked over his shoulder and interrupted Jasper's chaotic words.

"You're a chemist and you also know something about medicine. You know better than any of us about the effects of the fog and any chances of surviving it.

The thing overwhelming him was similar to anger. He was frustrated by Jasper's irrational thinking and filled with that one unpleasant feeling, ever since he found out about the deal.

Hearing that, Jasper nodded quite embarrassed and looked away. However, he said nothing as if he expected more to be said.

"Then why you're assuming she made it?"

Despite it all, he wanted to know what he had to say. He wanted to understand that glimpse of hope in his eyes and optimism overtaking at the most hopeless situations. All that while knowing better than anyone what could've happened.

"It's just..." Jasper tried hard to think of proper words. "I believe in her." He shrugged. "After all, it's Clarke." Sad smile appeared on his face.

Bellamy nodded, not doing anything else. His words, surprisingly, made some sense, but it was pretty hard to look at it from that point of view.

Jasper had hope. Even when the happy ending would be a miracle, it was there. A spark dancing in his eyes. Warm note in his voice. Readiness in every inch of his body.

Something that Bellamy didn't experience ever since Octavia was arrested. That feeling pushing rational thinking aside, leaving only determination and faith. But when he found out his sister wasn't going to be floated, there was this family love and care again, taught by their parents. 

But he barely recalled t h a t feeling.

Noticing that he still stood in the same spot when there was no chemist in sight, he went down the ladder, quite besotted.

And maybe he was never going to experience eye-brightening hope, but deep down his consciousness was something telling him to take on a mission. Something that didn't let him give up on packing his bag and deal with the fact, that they should dig out the eighth hole in the ground.

And that was the premonition. That was the instinct.

And these he had never, never underestimated.

So when he was finally ready, with a bag on his shoulders and a walkie-talkie in his hand, he began to look for his sister. He found her in front of the dropship and told her upstraight:

"You're taking over."

Octavia looked at him with her eyes wide open, and then she looked away. Finally, she nodded, giving him her last, determined, blue gaze.

"Hurry," she said firmly, adding quietly: "and don't do anything stupid."

He lifted the corner of his lip and hugged her for a few seconds.

"You, too. I know you tend to do so."

"Asshole." She moved away, hitting his shoulder and then she smiled, just in the Blake manner.

Bellamy watched her for a bit, needing to keep exactly that picture in mind. He knew they were going to meet again soon, but when he once, after one year apart, felt like her face is fading away in his mind while suffocated by the walls, he knew he wasn't going to let that happen ever again.

After that, he left, barely sighing at the thought of the distance he was about to walk. He took the same path as Finn and Clarke, to later on turn towards the spot where at night was the blinking. That's how he wanted to avoid unnecessary questions.

The sun was setting, temperature was dropping, and that meant one thing: next hours would be more bearable to walk. If a miracle somehow kept Clarke alive, facing the fog was surely not pleasant. Making her weak enough to stop walking, and that meant shortening still mercilessly long path for Bellamy. On the horizon he didn't even see a small dot, telling him where she might've been.

When his actions became more real with the camp decreasing behind, he muttered to himself:

"I better not be going for the corpse."

♦️♦️♦️

Past the dusk, the silence around Bellamy was cut by the voice from walkie-talkie. After few deadly silent hours, a noise from the other side seemed to physically hurt his ears.

"How's the walk, Bellamy?"

John Murphy.

He decided to ignore him, fighting with the pain all over his body. Earlier he took a short break, to drink and eat, but at that point he wasn't going to waste anymore time. In a daylight he needed it much more, if by then he wouldn't reach the goal.

And that was very possible.

"I guess you're dead after few hours? I was considering that option as well."

This time, he decided to answer. He took the device off his belt and pressed the button, without taking his eyes off the path.

"What do you want?" he asked disgusted, trying to cover the exhaustion.

He knew John back on the Ark. They both worked as guards, but Bellamy, as an adult, had all the priviledges and penalty reductions, meanwhile Murphy was still a beginner, limited janitor.

"You know what I want. And you can't back down." His voice was filled with amusement.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, even if Murphy couldn't see it. Even if the guy was right. He couldn't have said "no." He was up to his eyes in it. And he was painfully aware of it.

Despite that, he asked:

"What if I changed my mind?"

Surprisingly, the answer was silence. He wanted to burst out laughing, seeing that even Murphy didn't know that. But when he heard words filled with soaking threat, his mood changed immediately.

"Then it's better for you to die in the fog."

And then, he was the one left speechless.

"One instead of two. Your choice."

Even though that choice was not really a choice, he kept on being silent. Not because he wanted to annoy him. He was actually thinking about it. Unfortunately, he realised it a few seconds late.

Laughter reached his device.

"Are you really hesitating? That's incredible, Blake. You surprise me more and more every day."

That made him truly annoyed. But he didn't recall a time when he wasn't. That guy was made for it.

"Screw you, Murphy."

"Tell me. Why did you r e a l l y volunteer to be a hero? I thought I knew, but now I have some serious doubts."

And so he told him the same thing he told Jasper. But he didn't know himself w h y. He thought it's about "making things even", as Octavia said herself. He didn't want to live in a debt. If she was alive, he would help. End of a story.

That's what he kept on thinking.

"I don't know if I should believe you, but I'll tell you that: you have twenty four hours to decide. If not, you're getting a second warning. Then another. You don't want to know the last one."

Bellamy frowned, catching one error.

"What was even the first one?"

"Depends. You decided?"

He didn't answer.

And he heard a series of noises and crashes, after which he could only hear a static, empty screech.

"Murphy?"

Nothing has changed.

"Murphy!"

Nothing. Not a single reaction.

He shut his eyelids, calming his breath to not throw the device on the ground. He took a deep inhale, realising what had just happened.

First warning: destroying the contact with the dropship.

♦️♦️♦️

With an effort he could see a blurry shape of the dropship, that was about to shortly disappear from his view.

Enormous, empty space surrounding him cleared up when the faded light of the sunrise slowly reached the horizon, spreading it's delicate warmth from one end of his view to another. Then he could truly notice how deeply he was alone. How deeply he had to rely on himself.

Breath was sharp in his lungs. Hot air pouring right in like a fire. Earlier he put a brown material around his head to protect him, but still he felt it was doing nothing at all.

The forest spreading and expanding with time was a torture for his eyes, that was less and less bearable. Exhaustion got to him strongly enough to make him stop. He sighed with both relief and pain. He was about to drop his bag on the ground when something caught his attention.

He was surprised that he noticed that just then.

Dark, small dot, drastically different from the light color of the draught.

A tent.

He felt even bigger relief, which immediately was pushed away by the uncertainty.

Fighting his unwillingness to move again and regretting a break in the first place, he sped up his pace and went towards the spot. Time seemed to be stretched the same way it was in the beginning of his journey, maybe even more when he actually s a w his goal right in front of him. When there was so little to get through.

He was right. She went towards the blinking. His instincts didn't let him down.

After dozens of minutes he saw it all, being few feet away from the tent, when suddenly he stopped, afraid of what would he see inside. Or what w o u l d n' t he see. He heard no noise, what only made the worst case scenario light up in his head.

But he knew that the faster, the better. He swallowed and moved towards the tent.

Kneeling next to it, he carefully caught the zipper and slowly pulled it up. The noise of it only pricked his ears, filled him with all the emotions and made him truly realise that it was it. The moment he was getting to for hours. And he didn't want it to be in vain.

How surprised he was when in the middle of unzipping the tent, inches from his face suddenly popped out the metal blade.

Clarke.

Laying down, supported by one of her elbows and with the other arm holding up a weapon. Her face and exposed body parts were covered in blinding yet quite faded redness.

When her eyes met his, she dropped a blade with caution. The weight was taken off his mind in a flash.

“What-” Hoarseness took away her voice mid-sentence, similar to the one after the first fog. At that moment, it was even worse. She tried to cover up how much it cost her to get up and sit down. “What are you doing here?”

But instead of giving an answer, he got inside, taking off his bag. The small space only increased a feeling of sultriness inside. He took the material on his head off and looked at clearly confused blonde.

And when he finally saw she was alive, he felt a bite of anger that couldn’t leave him. He looked away, reaching to his bag.

“Octavia told me about your deal. Then the fog came and someone had to check if you’re alive.” His voice spilled no emotion.

“I said I’d help you.” She answered slowly.

It was true. But he didn’t think it would actually happen. He didn’t think she had such an influence on her mother and her actions. It was the Chancellor, after all. He thought not everything could’ve been fixed by blood. Another mistake.

“And I’m alive.”

And that was something bothering him ever since he saw a blade pointed at his face. Ever since he saw her in person, moveover - being able to self-defend. His head lifted, a bottle with water in his hand.

“How?”

He couldn’t understand that. He just couldn’t. He saw a miracle himself. It was obviously creating at least dozens of questions.

Instead of answering right away, Clarke pointed at something on her left. His gaze landed on the spot.

A sleeping bag.

He blinked, struck by the fiction. That was impossible. Not real. Her survival alone was barely possible. And that piece of material protecting her.

“You hid-”

“For a few hours.” Her voice barely touched the silence around them.

She locked her eyes on the sleeping bag, with the same calm expression as always. As if those last hours were nothing big. As it confronting the fog was another, casual event. She should’ve shown at least a sign of that experience. Or memories.

But when he noticed another red stain covering her cheek, almost reaching her eye, the surreal feeling slightly faded. Same as the anger.

Yet they didn’t disappear completely.

He also noticed some of the redness, apparently, through the burned holes in her clothes. Her skin was covered in it all over, and it didn’t seem bearable at all.

Finally he decided to act and he gave her a bottle, swallowing the bitterness and growing disappointment. At that gesture Clarke frowned, for some reason not accepting it.

“I assume the fog must increase the thirst.” He explained shortly.

“Not as just finished trip from the camp.” She pushed his hand back.

So to be done already, he drank a little and held water in her direction once again. He lifted his brows.

“Your turn.”

And it convinced her to finally take a sip. In the meantime he pulled out first aid kit, suggested by Jasper, and most of his knowledge came from Clarke, so he knew what would he need in case of burns.

A lot of burns.

And to all of that, there was Clarke, knowing well what to do and how to take care of it. She was unable to do it by herself, so there Bellamy’s task began. He felt relief, realizing he didn’t walk for nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Without raising his head, he answered:

“I’m saving your skin. Literally.”

“Why?”

And when he heard that question, he looked up annoyed.

“Your mother comes in a few days, so we have to be there first.”

And he kept on unrolling the bandages and putting them beside him, deciding not looking at her. If she kept all the questions to herself and wasn’t so stubborn about them, it would’ve all gone way easier. But sometimes he was forgetting it was Clarke Griffin he talked to.

“Bellamy-”

“When she sees you coming back all burned from the dead land, additionally with me, I doubt she’ll keep her word about my pardoning.”

He looked at her at the edge of his patience, and Clarke finally was silent. She put her lips in a thin line, looking away. Besides instructions on how to apply bandages, starting and ending on antiseptic gauze, she said nothing more. 

When he was covering one of the bigger wounds, with the corner of his eye he caught poorly hidden whims of pain. Her eyes closed and face expression - despite it all - still determined. After a beat it all came back to him, including his attitude to that whole situation, and he finished the patch, looking away right after.

However, he decided to ask her one question, just to be clear, because the answer seemed obvious. She was sitting with her back towards him, because there was the last, the biggest wound he was taking care of. He’d rather get her distracted.

The faster, the better, obviously.

Second before putting on a bandage, he spoke up.

“Why did you want to run away?”

And after a while, when he thought the question was gone, never to be answered, she said:

“You know why. The blinking.”

And he thought so.

He carefully put a gauze on her skin, but still it didn’t prevent the worst and Clarke hissed in pain. He finished as fast as he could, and he let her shirt down. More of holes in it than of blue-gray material itself. 

“There will be time to talk when we get back.”

And when he was about to get away, she said something that got him stuck in a spot.

“The thing is, I’m not going back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but I forgot to translate it. But this one is worth waiting isn’t it? Just kidding. See ya next week, loves!


	8. Murphy’s Law

The air got heavier within a second. Bellamy’s hands froze in place. She had no idea how was he going to react, especially after what he’d been through and what he’d just told her.

She felt awful. But that was the truth. Going back was not an option. Her goal was to move forward, since day one. Even if it meant death. Fog. Hunger. Thirst. Pain in every part of her body. Everything was better than a death glare of ninety three delinquents.

And of one Rebel.

“What?” his voice reached her from behind.

Instead of explaining her decision, she decided to get up slowly, with annoying burning sensation all over her skin. Awkwardly she got out of the tent to stare into the darkness. Or to be exact, to look at the blinking.

“You know what you’re doing?”

Bellamy got outside as well, keeping over one feet distance. But even then she clearly saw the sparks of anger bursting from his eyes, reflecting the light inside of the tent on his left.

She had it all planed. From A to Z. From finding the guilty, to reaching the Earth civilization. In her plan, there was no place for Bellamy, coming to get her back. There was no place to choose between their fate and hers.

There was no place to involve Bellamy in her disappearance.

“You’ve been pardoned. Tell the others I went to the border to find the source of food, water-”

Then Bellamy kicked a small piece of metal tube laying nearby with full force, and it hit the air, cutting the silence. Clarke stopped right away, looking at him and waiting. The features of his face were almost visible, since he turned back to the darkness. With his back slouched, he seemed even more fragile. He was breathing heavily, looking forward. And then he exhaled deeply, rubbing his face.

Clarke carefully approached him, still not sure how he’d react. She still didn’t get his movements, his inability to accept the pardon for everyone. She didn’t know what words would fit there the best.

But she knew where to start.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at her with the corner of his eyes. At least something. She took it as a sign of attention, and so she decided to continue.

“For that deal. For all the events. We shouldn’t have kept it to ourselves. After all, you’re the leader as well. I guess you’ve been taken off guard.

For a hot second he stayed quiet, with his eyes on the ground, covered in a thought. He still stood sideways, so she saw pretty well how his jaw clenched and loosened up, all over again. She wondered what was going through his head. And she was surprised it was even important to her.

When his gaze landed on her, she saw a shadow of disappointment.

“Leaders don’t run away, Clarke. Especially physicians.”

Unfortunately, he was right. But she could overcome this argument. Something that poked through all the logic as a thin, but painfully sharp needle. She moved towards the tent, feeling deeply exhausted. But before going inside, she turned back one last time. He was further away than seconds ago, but despite that, she replied:

“What kind of leader is it that everyone wants dead?”

And she disappeared behind the material, leaving the question in an endless void.

♦️♦️♦️♦️

For a good while he sat not even a mile from a tent, letting the cold air surround his tired body. Hunger, thirst and exhaustion was bothering him for a longer moment, but the need to get away, space out and be on his own was stronger than all of the above combined.

He had a plan. He knew where to go, how to help and how to avoid all of the worst case scenarios. He risked it, trying to have all the options under control. At that point, everything turned into chaos, bigger than that the empty space around him. At that point, he was hopeless, looking at the walkie-talkie, being so close to crashing it on a ground. Pressing a button, he yet again met the same silence.

One, annoying sound meaning a lack of any way to contact their camp.

“Go to hell, John.” he murmured, hiding the divice and heading back to tent.

He saw a light shining from within as he was approaching it, when suddenly he heard a noise. A walkie-talkie noise.

He sped up, got inside and saw Clarke being equally surprised herself as she searched for the device. When he thought the contact was cut for good, he assumed both devices were broken. 

“The fog must’ve disturbed the communication. It’s not just acid,” said Griffin, finally taking a transmitter in hand. She immediately pressed the button. “Clarke here, we’re all good. Come in.”

She stopped, feeling cold shivers running through her body. While waiting for response, she noticed that Bellamy closed his eyes.

“How good it is to hear your voice, Griffin!” Sarcastic voice of John Murphy himself. “But now, let’s get to the point. You’re probably aware that no one wants you back here, aren’t you?”

“I figured.” she answered, for a second longer confused by the situation. Yet she managed to get her Chancellor’s daughter voice back. For that she was always prepared.

“Great. Now, give me Bellamy. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy deeply every conversation we have.”

She rolled her eyes, not saying anything more and doing what she was asked for. Bellamy took the walkie-talkie with a different than usually face. His shoulders were tightened, his eyes locked on a ground. Was it fear?

Finally he pressed the button.

“Murphy-”

“Bellamy. Things has changed. You decided?”

Clarke frowned with a question in her eyes. Ever since he came back, he didn’t look at her. Until that moment. His glare said nothing good was about to happen.

“No.”

John answered his with a laughter.

“I thought so. Oh, I think I’ve just noticed your tent! See you soon.”

The noise was cut off.

With her eyes wide open Clarke watched as Bellamy stared at the device with the exact same expression and went outside shortly after. She tried her best to follow him, still trying to connect the dots. The instinct told her to take a piece of a tube, that could still help her to walk. A small help, but it was there.

She saw Bellamy few steps behind the tent, on the side where the camp was far, far away. There she spotted two figures walking towards them. She felt a darkness sneaking in. When finally standing next to Bellamy, she watched the guests with anxiety hidden behind the face made of stone. Question marks were attacking her mercilessly.

“What’s going on, Bellamy?” she asked, tired of not knowing anything, feeling like she wouldn’t get any answer.

And she was right. He just looked forward with inhuman tension and calmness at the same time. Feelings all around created madness, and she didn’t even know what were they going to face.

Not counting John Murphy, obviously.

“No ‘welcome party’? Fine, I can see why is that.” He spoke up, his voice ironically low, when they were close enough to be seen and heard.

What Clarke did not expect, was the presence of Finn Collins. Not knowing why, the situation became clearer than before. As if the fog in her head faded and moved, but she still was not sure what it truly uncovered.

Brown-haired guy gazed at her, with hate and even with some kind of disgust. Clarke decided to ignore it, but she couldn’t do the same with a bad, bad feeling growing in her chest. In the meantime Murphy began to explain.

“I know, I know, twenty four hours didn’t really pass, but we don’t have that much time.” He turned to Bellamy. “I have a gift for Clarke to make up for that inconvenience.”

And he threw, right at her feet, a pocket knife covered in blood.

Her heart sped up, Bellamy froze in place. Blood. Pain. Death. Cruelty. Revenge. Evil. But who was the victim this time? Which innocent person paid the price instead of her? Who’s blood was spilled in vanity and blind hatred?

“Somebody got hurt because of you, once again, Ms. Chancellor. But it was intentional this time, in case you didn’t notice.”

Disgusting, half-smiles filled their faces, as she felt more and more out of self-control.

“You wanna know who was it?”

She was at the verge of losing it. She saw a bawl with a white dust. Almost felt the poisonous smell of her bandage material. Saw the pain on Vice-Chancellor’s face and the darkness that took the bracelet off her wrist.

When Murphy gazed at Bellamy once again, she felt it was even worse.

“Your sister, Bellamy.”

Clarke involuntarily looked at him, seeing his face becoming frighteningly pale. His chest worked as a heavy machine. And even if his emotions weren’t on his face, his eyes were lit on fire by the anger. There was also fear and pain so strong that it couldn’t go unnoticed or not felt for oneself.

“But before you rip us apart, or even try to do it, know that she’s alive. At least I think she is.” John played with his feelings while smiling like an actual psychopath.

“Where is she?” Bellamy’s voice cut the silence like an incandescent axe.

Murphy threw his bands aside, fixed his bag on the shoulder and nodded at Finn, who moved calmly and without a rush towards Clarke. Then all of Murphy’s attention was paid to Bellamy. Clarke involuntarily took a step back from Collins, feeling not afraid, but discouraged. All she cared about was Octavia’s fate.

Then, looking back over his shoulder, Murphy said unclearly:

“She’s...” Pointed at the dark. “Somewhere between us and the camp.”

Her heart stopped.

Finn spoke up for the first time.

“You didn’t want to choose willingly, so we‘ll force you to choose. You knew it would be this way, if you ever decide to back off. These are the consequences.” He just stared at Bellamy with pure disappointment. “So choose now, because time is running out. It doesn’t matter to us.”

And it hit her.

It was her. All along. She made peace with it, since the choice wasn’t hard. Despite that, her eyes filled with tears and she fought to not let them fall on her face. Someone constantly paid for her mother’s choices. Maybe it was the end of chain.

“He has to take a first aid kit with him. If you want him to go, make sure he has a chance to save her.” She spoke up, seeing Bellamy took the first step.

Finn and John looked at each other, and Murphy nodded towards the tent, agreeing. Bellamy turned away to approach a shelter, and during that, he managed to stare at her for longer, not feeling sorry, but truly defeated. They had no choice. Clarke felt they both knew it, but still she wished she could actually tell him.

Suddenly, Murphy followed.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t try to do anything stupid, you stay here.” He told Finn.

And Clarke, seconds before them being gone, noticed a piece of black material sitting in Bellamy’s pocket.

She didn’t know if he was aware he had it right there. And she felt that familiar darkness surrounding her mind. Before she knew it, her face was right in front of Finn’s.

“Why don’t you kill me here and now?”

He didn’t care to look at her.

“Be careful, Princess. Don’t you think it’ll be as quick as any better headshot.”

She felt as time was falling through her fingers. Her time. So there were things she needed to know. She had to get at least a bit of truth before infinite blackness.

“Why do you hate me, Finn? For real?”

He gave her a strange look, nothing like on the Ark. He looked like she was dead to him, and old Finn died in front of her eyes. It left her wondering how could they fall so deep in hate, not even saying up straight what truly happened between them.

Venom in his voice poisoned the draught’s silence.

“You didn’t even try to make your mother change the sentence she put on my parents. And after everything that happened you thought we can still be together.”

She looked at the sky.

“How could I do anything about that? You know that on the Ark there are rules, irrational and abstract, but everyone knows what happens if you break them.”

He snorted ironically.

“That’s it.” He turned to her out of the blue. “Chancellor’s daughter taught inhuman rules since she was a kid. Death is only fulfilling the duty and the consequence of choices. You looked at it from far away, you had it better. You’ve always had it better!

An incredible force knocked her out on the ground. She hit it painfully, sensing every single burn on her body being on fire. She rose up few inches, using her hands, feeling that the moment was coming.

“How many people would still live if our attempt on you was successful.”

Bang. Dead security. Secret aisles. Three assassins. Living in a terror for few months. Hiding in a shadow. In all that, her father, being with her that one day, helping her with getting in the dark aisle under their feet. Darkness and the shot that took him away.

“If your father didn’t get in my way, maybe he would still be alive, instead of you.”

Metalic blood shined somewhere in front of her. She grabbed the knife and with anger she cut Finn’s leg, going through the thick, black material. And when he screamed in pain, she took the tube with both hands and immediately pressed it to his throat. She had to fall with him on the ground to avoid a kick. With his weight he locked her ankle and she screamed in agony.

Seconds after that, Bellamy and Murphy ran out of the tent.

Clarke became pale.

Three assassins.

Murphy.

Finn.

And Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot is happening, I know. We’re moving away from the show A LOT. Also, if there is any day/night inconsistency, let me know. Time moves fast. And events aren’t slowing, not at all! Thank you for over 1100 hits! It’s a big number for me, so thank you and see ya next week!


	9. Third Sidee

Not being fast enough, Murphy fell down by Bellamy's strike from behind. Falling on his knees, he screamed in suffer, and landed helplessly on a stomach. Then the black material shined in a tent light, a blade stuck in his back. Blood was coming out through his jacket, spilling on the dead ground.

Clarke let out the anger, pain and loss, reborn all over again. Through the sound of choking and fighting to breathe, she didn't notice tears falling down her face for a long time. Focused on the strenght of her arms, on the strenght she couldn't hold back. She couldn't. 

_"Maybe he would still be alive, instead of you."_

She shut her eyes, suffering for her father, for the old Finn, who died before his parents, for Wells, for her mother, who caused it all and for the delinquents, buried behind the dropship. Fire burned her memories. Surrounding them with the acid fog. The darkness had her on loop and she felt it herself, as if someone cut her a way to breath. She wanted to scream, but she lost her voice.

She lost.

"Clarke, stop." Bellamy's hand grabbed her forearm.

Then, woken up, she saw that Finn wasn't choking anymore. Wasn't moving any part of his body. Wasn't fighting her hands.

He wasn't.

In a flash she dropped the metal object. By the corner of her eye she saw Murphy, laying still in his own blood. She saw the stars were gone from the sky. Her head was dizzy. She felt sick. The surreal feeling was swallowing her. With the last bits of consciousness she formed a sentence. 

"Get Octavia here." She went towards the tent, not looking back. She didn't have to tell him twice.

She couldn't look at him. Or at the bodies laying at her feet. Or at her own hands. She was afriad she'd see there the blood of thousands. The blood of the universe. Inside of a tent, she fell on her knees. All her energy flew away in the void, united with the draught.

Right then, nothing made her diffrent from any other murderer.

♦️♦️♦️♦️

_"Wake up, Clarke."_

_A cup lightly hit the desk, interrupting her nap she took on the lymphatic system chapter. Literally._

_She got up and saw her dad's smile._

_"I'm Clariss, dad. Don't you remember?" She rubbed her eyes, when the backpain truly hit in._

_"Maybe the Ark believes it, but you won't fool me, you know." He sat on a chair next to her, closed the book and moved it out of her reach, giving her a cup of hot chocolate instead._

_"I have exams in two days, and you're still being you." She tried to make it sound serious, but a little smile betrayed her mercilessly._

_"You're not taking breaks. Don't be this hard on yourself. You know all of this already and that-" He pointed at the book. "Is more than familiar to you."_

_He had to be right. He just had to._

_When she rolled her eyes, Mr. Griffin rose up from his sit to point at the cup._

_"I'll be back in five and this must be empty by then."_

_I saluted him with a smile, bringing back the book, and that time it was her dad who rolled their eyes._

_"And you still-"_

_Bang._

_Shot._

_Scream._

_"Clarke!"_

_Another shot. Another scream._

_Bigger bang._

_Entrance in the floor. Her dad's orders. Crash. Darkness._

_Bang._

_Third shot._

"Clarke!"

She stood up, suddenly thrown into reality. Bellamy was calling her louder and louder as he fast approached the tent. Her numb hand grabbed a piece of it and lifted it up to make him an easier way to get inside. The dawn was coming.

The tension came back.

After a beat he got in, carrying Octavia. She looked like herself from the first day on the ground. But instead of the cut on her forehead, she had a long, nasty wound, going from her knee up to her hip.

"She's barely breathing."

Ignoring him, she ripped a part of her pants, looking closely at the cut. The blood was running slow, dark and painful. Arteries were unharmed. She didn't know, however, how much blood she'd lost. But not knowing why, deep inside, she didn't feel much. She should've, but she haven't. 

In Bellamy's bag that, it seemed like, he just brought to tent, was a new first aid kit. She found everything she needed to sew a wound. During that, she heard brown-haired girl's unconscious groans, but she just carried on. She was a physician.

The only thing she saw clearly was blood. Everywhere. On everyone.

When she finished the stitch, she saw a movement on her left. Bellamy sat down. She felt he was about to speak up. And she was right.

"Thank you."

Even the honesty in his words wasn't enough to make her look at him.

"Let's get some sleep. We won't help her tired."

She moved further away from siblings and lay down on her sleeping bag, facing the tent. The tension was slowly leaving her body. Unsteadiness. Loss that wouldn't fade. No matter what she did. It would be there and she couldn't feel safe. She was feeling weak. 

After a while, she heard Bellamy lying down as well.

"Neither of you should be going through this."

She closed her eyes, not sure if he said it to her, or just to himself, assuming both her and Octavia weren't able to hear him, but either way, she didn't answer. The bangs were still haunting her mind. She still couldn't shake off the feeling that everyone was waiting for her gone mistake to use it. Waits for her weakness.

After a while longer than the previous one, she heard Bellamy's steady breath. He fell asleep. And then she was able to fall asleep herself.

♦️♦️♦️♦️

This time, rays of sun didn't bring him relief.

Disturbed sleep was bearable only to the point where a temperature didn't rise up so much it started to boil the air. The outside wasn't better. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place. He felt sweat already covering his body.

He rose up on his elbows, immediately checking on Octavia. She lay as she did before. And only when he saw her chest still rising up, he released the air he kept in his lungs up until then. She'd live. That was all that mattered. Everything could go south. 

When he glanced at Clarke, her burns seemed to be way more eye-catching. As well as destroyed clothes and ankle looking like a punching bag. Behind the heartless Chancellor's daughter, there was a simple Arcadian, having feeling. Boundaries. Contrasting with her mother's, strong, unconditional sacrifice instinct. Even for someone who was ready to choke her with their bare hands. 

And to his own surprise, he was quite impressed.

She started to move. First, she lifted her head, then she sat down and finally, yet without a hurry, checked on Octavia. She blinked a few times, lay a top of her hand on Octavia's forehead. She frowned. Took her water bottle, slightly shaking it for a second. Putting it next to her, she grabbed a pocket knife, leaning towards his sister.

"What are you doing?" Bellamy's tense voice made her pay attention to him.

She looked at him tired, saying:

"A compress. She has a fever." She poured what was left of her water on the gray sleve, then she cut it off and put it on girl's head.

Octavia only winced.

Bellamy nodded without a word, worried by the news. All of his muscles seemed to be numb. He was on the verge of pain and paralysis. Yet he needed to get outside. He was afraid that one more second of seeing his sister in pain and he would lose it. He wanted to get away.

After a short fight with his body he managed to get out. Even though he didn't want to, he looked at the shadow of last night.

And then he went numb.

When Finn's body was lying sideways, his back to Bellamy, instead of John's body there was only bloody, strangely straight line.

And it wasn't going towards the camp.

"Help! Leave me alone!" A loud voice got out of the tent. 

Octavia.

In a beat he ran inside. There his sister was shaking her head around, while Clarke was trying to hold her down. He saw how Octavia unconsciously moves every inch of her body. There was no pain written on her face.

He decided to react and grab her by her ankles. He kept them fimly on the ground. He didn't want her to rip the stitches. He didn't want the demons haunting her mind. He didn't want anything more to threaten her.

His sister, his responsibility.

"The fever is getting worse." 

Clarke, trying to cover a grimase, put a pressure with her knee to hold Octavia's shoulder and free one of her hands. She took a pocket knife and made a big hole in a tent's material, right on the other side of the entrance. Aeration.

With a wet material from Octavia's head she carefully wiped girl's shoulder and waved it in the air for a few seconds, in the end putting it back on its place. Somewhere nearby she found a first aid kit, and inside of it, one syringe. 

Clarke looked at it for longer than needed, but after that she quickly injected it into Octavia's cleared arm.

His sister started to relaxed seconds ago. But right after that she groaned in pain. A light wind and the shot started to slowly help her. After minutes, she stopped moving and harming herself. She went back into pre-fever state. But it didn't mean it went away completely.

"Tomorrow the Ark comes down. By then she has to survive. The next hours will be crucial." The blonde got up, intending to go outside.

A bit alert, Bellamy stopped her, getting in her way. He noticed how she tensed. She managed to get her old face expression back. She lifter her brow. He felt her gaze was empty.

"What are you doing?"

Bellamy took a deep inhale.

"The view won't be the best." Then he moved right away.

Despite that, she hesitated for a second, deep in her thoughts, but she quickly came back to earth and went outside. He followed.

She saw the image. Looked at the tree line far away. Followed the new, red path with her eyes, from there, to the dry pool of blood right next to them. She knew they weren't alone. John would've chosen the camp. If he even was alive. But she'd seen it all. There was no way.

This whole thing could've been explained by the third side. Not them, not the camp.

The grounders.

She saw that Finn's body, which she could've barely looked at, wasn't lying the way... it did before. Murphy's knife was above his head. The tube was gone.

She felt a sudden coolness in her scalp.

And when she needed it the least, she started to feel. When she needed it the least, she heard his laughter. Innocent, painless, Finn Collins's laughter. A laughter of a teen Arcadian. A spacewalking fanatic. Clarke's first love. Jasmine and Philipe Collins' son.

But there was no Jasmine Collins. No Philipe Collins.

And above all, there was no Finn Collins.

He died from Clarke Griffin's hand.

With a dry throat, she made few steps towards the teen's dead body. She crouched as she could right next to him. She didn't want to see his face. She wasn't sure what would she feel. The burning sensation in her eyes was enough. She couldn't even touch him. She didn't know whose body it had truly been.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she threw it off right away. She stepped away from Bellamy. Finally, she looked him in the eyes. For the first time after that night, she truly looked him in the eyes. With her gaze she wanted to express all the pain.

"If you're trying to even things up between us, just stop."

He stood straight right in front of her, frowning and confused, but waiting for her to continue. Brown shade gleamed ambiguosly in the light of a black dawn.

Clarke explained quickly what she thought needed to be rectified.

"I ran away, left you alone and didn't come back, screwing your plans. You didn't tell me anything about Murphy and his plans about me." She named all that happened with her typical, toned leader voice. "Honestly? We're even."

"Are we?" he asked, not believing in anything she said. He wasn't born yesterday. "Seriously, Griffin. Cards on the table. As far as I can tell, you're not saying everything."

Then she unvoluntarily looked at Finn, losing all the energy.

"I guess no one ever does."

And the heavy silence fell like a burden. None of them said a word and none of them was bothered by that. She felt that tension, tied to her companion. And that well known darkness hanging above like a fate. For a while she couldn't deal with reality and it made her go crazy. Nothing made any sense.

She felt that she was losing control over her own life.

When Bellamy came with a beige-brown material, she didn't even notice. He wanted to cover the body. She guessed he was waiting for her to let him, because he stopped with it next to her. Looking at her with a question in his eyes. Maybe she didn't see that look, but she took a step back, letting him. 

And when Bellamy turned the boy's body, they both jumped away in a flash

Clarke felt the blood coming off her face. She went away and a bit further she threw up all that was in her stomach. And there wasn't much. She felt dizzy. She felt the same. She saw the same. Blood. Blood everywhere. On everyone. She felt disgust. Incredible disgust. Shivers went through her whole body and didn't let go off her. She couldn't look back there. She couldn't. She couldn't.

Even then, the image would forever get stuck in her head.

God.

She wiped her mouth, falling on her knees few more steps away. Her eyes filled with tears. She saw his blood on her hands. It was there. It was. It was. She pressed her wrists to her eyelids. She didn't want to cry. It was not that feeling. It was none of the feelings she felt before.

It was the worst of them all.

She barely heard the steps that stopped somwhere nearby. He crouhed in front of her. And then she no longer cared about who she was. Who she should've been. Who everyone thought she was.

She leaned forward, almost hitting the ground, but Bellamy met her half-way and caught her, letting her fall on his chest. His hand carefully rested on her back. He closed his eyes himself, seeing another, poisonous memory under his eyelids.

Enormous 'X' sign cut on Finn's face - face devoid of eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a tough one, not gonna lie. But we're slowly coming to the big break, two chapters left for that, and after a while, there will be more. But enjoy this one and hope you liked it!! <3 See ya next week loves!


	10. Face To Face

_"It's not up for discution. You know that."_

_Ms. Blake picked up one of the floor tiles, exposing dark, tight space with a baby blue, dirty blanket and golden brown teddy bear inside of it._

_Octavia stood still. At that point, the space was almost too small for her. She was fifteen, and one second under the floor was enough to take away her breath. He knew it, even though she'd never told him that. Despite that, deep down he hoped she'd always had a shelter. It was foolish, but it was there. He didn't want to bring any other option into light._

_He swallowed anxiously._

_"I'm done!"_

_She kneeled in front of the hole, hiding behind her palms. Time was running out, and a pressure inside of their room was only rising. Bellamy felt shivers on his back. Their mother brushed her gray-ish hair with a hand. They both were close to break. One more mistake and that would be it. One more step. One more word spoken too loudly._

_He decided to act._

_"Please, O. We only have five minutes or even-"_

_The door opened with a bang. It was too late._

_No._

_With a foggy, blurred sight, he saw guards grabbing and taking away both his sister and mother. He barely felt the ground when he jumped forward to stop them. He barely heard his own scream._

_No._

_But one second later, broken stares of his family disappeared behind the first corner._

_And he, still held by the guards, was left completely alone._

Clarke straightened up when her body stopped to shake involuntarily. She wasn't crying. Her face was dry as this place they ended up in. Her eyes were empty, but she spared a second to look at Bellamy. Grey eyes gleamed with a hidden gratitude. She brushed her ripped clothes and tried to get up. After a beat she was standing on her weakened legs, turning away from the beige material on purpose.

"It's a warning," she said quietly with no emotions on her face. Looking forward, at the forest, she frowned in a thought.

Bellamy looked at the body, then at the stains of blood. He had a big mess in his head. If they were in danger, it wasn't just the three of them, but every Arcadian there was. Maybe the fate of people who were supposed to float him wasn't as important to him as Octavia's, but he already felt responsible for the delinquents. Coming down to Earth with them permanently made him a leader. Whether he wanted it or not.

But it was Octavia who mattered to him the most. And we wasn't going to lose her ever again.

"We have to head back before the evening. They'll be back here as soon as the temperature drops."

Clarke didn't respond. Bellamy lost hope for her speaking up at all and headed to their tent, making a deeper inhale. He didn't fully understand her nature, especially after all that had happened throughout last few days. Their point of views were different from one second to another, taking away their knowledge even about themselves. They were just like water, in dynamic, unsteady movement. Constantly changing place. Constantly shapeshifting.

Despite it all, he felt compassion for Griffin. He wasn't satisfied with her failures anymore. He wasn't amused when the water turned into steam, leaving a painful humidity and an empty space. That's why, despite all their differences and contrasts, constant annoyance and irreversible past, he tried to understand what was she going through. If it was Octavia instead of Wells and Finn...

"It's been a while since the blinking stopped."

Griffin's voice stopped him in a half-step.

He looked at the mentioned spot and correctly, he couldn't even find a place where the unnatural shining dot might've been. He had no idea what it could've meant. Was it the sign that the fog was no longer going to attack them? Or maybe it was only to take them off guard? They couldn't get an answer.

It could only come to them.

"Where the hell is he?!" Octavia's scream bursted from the tent.

Clarke woke up.

"She still has a fever." And she ran towards the girl, quickly followed by Bellamy.

Being inside, they expected Octavia in pure madness and unconsciousness, but another, contrasting to it picture hit them. Brown-haired girl sat down, holding a pocket knife. Her gaze was clear and filled with pure, dreadful anger. She was breathing quickly, but as soon as she saw her brother, she let the knife fall on the ground, suddenly calm. Her eyes opened widely in a surprise.

"Bell?"

And the older Blake took it as a sign. He ran towards his sister, hugging her with full force, put her head right under his own, closing his eyes in relief. Clarke looked away, feeling like she was ruining siblings' fragile moment. 

"You're safe now." Bellamy pulled away just to fix a strand of her hair. "It's Clarke's tent. We're going back to camp today."

Octavia frowned, looking around until her gaze met the blonde. It wasn't the friendliest one, more like confused and sceptical. But before she could say anything, Bellamy added:

"She stitched your wound."

Then, even more confused, she looked at her thigh. She dropped her eyelids fast, turning her head away. As if realising the pain right at that moment, she took a deeper breath. Bellamy didn't drop his supportive hand off her back. 

Clarke suspected that if it wasn't for that addictional comment of his, Octavia would've thrown accusations at her once again. But they would be right, and so she felt awkwardness. Discomfort of having sins no one couldn't or just didn't point her out. She felt it was what she deserved. A part of her wanted to hear guilt and swears, not having a beginning or an end. Tangled in an infinity. For eternity and longer. 

But she came back to the real timeline.

Octavia nodded, silently thanking her. Blue eyes shined in sceptical truce. And Clarke, feeling that weird pressure of her stare, looked away almost right away. She couldn't accept her gesture. Putting on a stitch was nothing compared to forgiving a horror Octavia had gone through because of her.

She started to pack the least necessary stuff.

"Can you make it to the camp?" she asked, not stopping.

"I sure can," she answered after a beat, but something in her voice wasn't right. "I'm not sure about you two."

And there indeed was something wrong.

"Because?" Bellamy pressed her to explain.

Octavia sighed.

"Because not long after you left to find Clarke, the Ark sent us a new message. They proposed new rules. With no banishments."

Hearing that, Clarke invisibly clenched a hand into fist.

"You can assume it was Finn who took advantage of it. And more like for your disadvantage." She started playing with a knife. It definitely looked like a tic. "He turned people against you, with Murphy they assumed I know your location and thought I'll be useful, and then you know what happened."

The silence confirmed it. It was almost lethal.

Octavia looked at both of them and connected few more dots. But only after a while she decided to speak up again. The darkness around her was more than eye-catching.

"And if they got here, and you're both okay and even came back for me-"

"They're not a threat anymore, O," Bellamy interrupted.

And she understood his hidden message.

Clarke felt the cramp in her stomach, and used the chance to change the topic.

"What about Jasper and Monty?"

"Jasper took your doctor role, and Monty works on every kind of improvements. Both of these in cooperation with the crew on the Ark." Octavia rolled her eyes.

The blonde nodded, finally glad about something.

But Bellamy looked as if the worst was yet to hit them.

"So what about us? We can go back now, right?"

It made sense. If someone leading the rebels was not to return, then the rebelion itself should fall at some point. The ideology could be gone with his leader. A power loses its power source.

But Octavia's disappointed glare wasn't good for Bellamy's question.

"Clarke may be spared because of the Chancellor, but you, Bell," she went silent, dropping her gaze. She prolonged the truth. "You could be better off dead." 

Instead of answering, Bellamy went outside with unclear face expression.

Griffin didn't drop the topic.

"I think you should go back. That's what he wants for you."

Octavia frowned.

"I'm not leaving him alone."

"I'll stay with him."

The younger Blake stared at her speechless. She was taken off guard.

"Why? You don't want to go back to your mother?"

And she said in response:

"And you would go back to someone like that?"

Octavia shook her head.

Clarke was making a new strategy in her head. Knowing all the facts, she finally felt in control of what was happening around her. She could do something more than just looking at someone's pain and sacrifice. Than just stitching a would or running away from her life's consequences.

Then, she knew it was time to move on.

"You'll take my walkie-talkie, we have the ones that Bellamy and John brought here." Saying the other name aloud took more power out of her voice. "You have to leave before the sunset. We'll be fine."

Out of the blue, Octavia threw at her something heavier than any of this.

"I wonder why are you helping him. I almost choked you to death and Bellamy... Do you even know what he did on the Ark? That would-"

"I know."

She answered, dividing supplies in two bags. She didn't look at the girl, she had no reason to do so. But also because she had no idea what to expect. She prefered to trust in the power of words.

She prefered to go forward before she could lose the strenght. The past could drag her to the deep, dark end. And even if it was heavy, suffocating and destroying the present, she had to move on to avoid that rock bottom. She wasn't going to hit it once again. She was useful there, on the surface. Only there felt like herselft. Only there she could see who she was after all.

And maybe it was her silence that sent that message to Octavia.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Then Griffin passed her one of the shortwave transmitters, and Bellamy came back inside.

He seemed to be pulled out of a deep thinking. Noticing what has changed, he frowned. Octavia was about to speak up, but it was Clarke who explained it. Despite her feelings towards him, she wanted to avoid a scenario where he would be left out of a plan.

"Octavia goes back to camp. I packed everything she needs. We're staying." Seeing that he didn't quite take in the plan, she continued. "I gave her one of the transmitters and she'll only use it if absolutely necessary."

She looked at Octavia, making sure she got that part. But just as her brother, she lost the track of her thoughts.

"Why?"

And, surprisingly, Bellamy gave her an answer. Crossing his arms, he looked at Clarke.

"Until we contact and tell you otherwise, we're dead."

♦️♦️♦️♦️

Everything was ready.

Octavia got a hat and a light bag on her back. A stitched material on her led was additionally covered with the last pieces of bandages. It had to be enough.

Earlier, walking out of the tent, she ignored the sight, probably assuming it wouldn't be a good idea to talk about it. Especially when she saw the effort Clarke was putting into avoiding the covered body.

"When I get back, I'll try to make you a way back. The Ark will care about Clarke. You just have to wait until they come down." Octavia fixed the stripe on her shoulder, looking carefully at both of them.

"We have rations for one more day. It'll be fine," Clarke answered. "Be careful."

Octavia turned to her brother, saying:

"Can you give us a minute?"

Bellamy, after a beat of being sceptical, finally moved few feet away. Clarke frowned, looking at him, and then at his sister.

"Is everything okay?"

"Listen. I don't know what you two have been through, or what do you truly think about my brother, but Bellamy's good. It's not that obvious, but he changed since the Ark."

Clarke didn't say a word.

"I struggled myself with accepting what he did. Especially when he did it for me. So I understand your attitude. I even understand you better."

She felt anger, helplessness and tears in her eyes.

"Octavia-"

"Wait." She raised her hand, stopping Clarke. "I'm getting to the point. Maybe I'm asking for too much, but could you keep an eye on him?"

Clarke looked away, clenching her lips into thin line. Octavia had no idea what she was asking for. She didn't know herself. She didn't tell her about a threat on the third side. There was so much information left out. But she couldn't tell her. She swallowed the dryness in her throat.

Octavia wanted her brother to come back to camp. She needed Clarke to make that happen. And she was in no shape or form ready to go back. She wasn't mentally prepared, feeling like it would be another bottom to hit. She couldn't do that to herself.

And even if, they couldn't go back anyway. Out of nowhere, she saw Finn. A threat on his face. Anger turned into numbness.

Only Bellamy knew it all. He knew as well as she did that there was no way back. It could be the last time they saw Octavia. The last time they see a familiar face. There was a dangerous journey ahead. It was time for them to face the primal residents of Earth. For both of them.

And maybe she didn't fully trust the guy, knowing what he took part in. Knowing what she had lost. But when she recalled how he put bandages on all her burns, or how he patiently held her at one of her worst moments, she decided.

She had to move on.

"Fine. I'll keep an eye on him."

Octavia gave her a smile of relief.

"Thank you."

Clarke firmly squeezed her shoulder, nodding, then she moved few feet away. She left a space for the Blakes. Seeing that, Bellamy hesitantly moved towards his sister.

She saw from her spot how he tried to hide the sorrow of their goodbye. She assumed he wanted to keep her right by his side. Maybe he saw her for the last time and he couldn't tell her. He was helpless. But for his sister, he kept himself in check. Her peace was more important to him than his own feelings.

Clarke felt deep remorse, seeing how he gives a forehead kiss to the only person he would jump into fire for. Luckily she woke up right away, remembering who and where they were, so she looked away, at the first thing catching her attention.

A pool of blood.

She felt how ruthless was the draught. They had to fight a constant thirst, to survive for more than twelve hours. The heat pushed the hunger away, what paradoxically worked to their advantage. A passing time was sitting on their shoulders. They were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Burning rays of sun with a slow death was an alternative to meeting the Grounders and a possible death from their hands.

But she had to do something. If there was a chance to find a source of food and water, she couldn't reject it.

"The sun will set soon."

Bellamy stopped next to her, looking at the same spot. His voice was low, and kind of weak, resigned. Clarke felt how tensed his posture was, but she said nothing. He just let her sister go, without a way to get back. He had to watch her leave. Watch her getting smaller and smaller. 

And to make it worse, there was this invisible fence between him and Clarke, with each second getting thicker and higher. It was harder to talk to him, and she knew it worked both ways.

"Let's get going." Clarke shook away the stillness.

And as she said it, they both started to fold and pack all that was necessary, taking as much as they could walk with later on. They didn't want Octavia to see how the tent disappears from her eyes, so they needed that while, before it was all on their backs. They only left things that they couldn't carry or that were just useless.

The last thing they took, or that Bellamy took, was Murphy's knife, laying above Finn's head. They had no idea if they were signing up for the suicide, so any weapon was priceless.

Clarke decided to face yesterday's shadow. She glared at Finn's body one last time, regretting how it all ended up that way. Moving forward, she also had to let him go.

With materials around their heads, bags on their back and walkie-talkies by their belts, they finally decided to leave. Clarke felt a bit of relief, leaving cruel memories behind. Their steps were moving away from the trait of blood, leading to the right side of that forest. There was a chance for them to avoid the confrontation.

And a chance to save their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the biggest of mine, but we have one more till the big break! Until next week, see ya!

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Welcome to my very first bellarke fic! It may not look like it, but it's a bigger work. And I love slow, slow burn what can I say. With each chapter there will be more of Bellamy, and less similarity to the show. You'll see. Hope you stay around! (Don't mind if you don't I've literally translated this fic because I wrote it in my native language and I'm not native English at all, so thus why the lacking grammar!) Love u all<33


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